


After Ever After

by SummerLeighWind



Series: A Rose for Albus [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cousin Incest, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Harry Potter Next Generation, Incest, Next Generation, Original Character(s), Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7237885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerLeighWind/pseuds/SummerLeighWind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I came back because I was weak."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homecoming

He stared blankly at the tiled wall of his shower. The once warm water now raining down cold around him, he absently lifted a hand to scratch at an itch on his nose. When his blue-tinged fingers came into his field of vision, Alvin was reminded of his wife's lips. They'd been a similar color when he had seen her at the hospital after being called in to come identi–

"Enough," he told himself. Balling his fingers into a fist, he hit the wall. Wincing at the pain, Alvin turned around to turn off the shower. Leaving the little cubicle, he dried himself and pulled on a pair of sweats. "I guess I should check on the kids," he said to himself after a few moments of just standing dumbly in front of the mirror. Taking off, it wasn't too long before he was in the kitchen. There he found his middle daughter, Laurel, sitting on the table, staring out the picture-window. She looked so very grown up; a cup of tea resting firmly on her knobby knees and a look on her face that Alvin wasn't quite sure what to call. Pensive, maybe.

Though, Alvin really wasn't at his best these days. He could be wrong. It could just be Laurel was wearing a new version of the mournful expression she had been for the past week and a half (but without the tears). Either way, she seemed to have found some semblance of peace Alvin wasn't yet ready to interrupt. Not before he figured out where the other children were, anyway. Backing out of the kitchen, he turned and walked into the living room.

In front of the telly was Julie. Her back was to Alvin and she was hunched forward, staring intently at the screen as _Princess and the Frog_ played out for what surely had to be the thousandth time in a row this week. Even so, Alvin did not have it in him to pull his little girl away. It was the first Disney film Rosemary ever saw. She had gone to see it with her Muggle grandparents at the cinema and fell in love with it. For months after, she'd insisted on dressing like a princess and claimed she was going to open a restaurant just like Princess Tiana when she grew up.

Unlike so many little girls, Rosemary followed through on her claims. Only months after running away together, they had started a food cart called Frog Prince and, together, they made and sold New Orleans-inspired cuisine. Several years later, after pinching every penny and building a strong customer-loyalty base, they traded in their food cart for an actual restaurant with four walls, a kitchen, and wait staff.

When they had opened the doors to Frog Prince for the first time, Rosemary had beamed at him with such pride and joy that Alvin felt his own heart swell with the same for her. She had done it. She had made her dream come true.

'She must be so angry up there, knowing I've let her precious restaurant sit closed for almost two weeks,' Alvin thought darkly. Swallowing back a hot and uncomfortable lump that was struggling to burst from his lips, he refocused on Julie for a moment. Her body was swaying in-tune with one of _Princess and the Frog's_ songs now. Out of all the children, she was the only one who loved the movie just as much as Rosemary did - _had_. They used to sing the songs together when they watched.

Suddenly, an old memory came to him.

" _You gotta diiiig a little deeper!_ " _Rosemary and Julie sang joyfully as they danced around him and the other girls. From his spot between the cheering Laurel and Lynette on the couch, Alvin just clapped his hands and laughed. As his girls twirled before them, Rosemary sent him a wink and suggestive wiggle of her hips. Alvin grinned wider, knowing just what would come after they put the kids to bed._

Nine months later Jack had been born.

Thoughts now on his son, Alvin drifted out of the living room and toward the stairs at the end of the hall. Walking up them, he winced at the squeak the sixth step made. He had promised Rosemary he would fix it before she–

'Tomorrow _,_ ' he said to himself, 'I'll fix it tomorrow.'

Once at the top of the landing he went straight to their – _his_ bedroom. Opening the door, Alvin wasn't the least bit surprised to see Jack curled up in a ball on their – _his_ ( _hishishishis!_ ) bed. Approaching, he gingerly took a seat beside the little boy. Almost instantaneously Jack climbed into his lap. Tiny fingers twisted themselves in the fabric of Alvin's T-shirt.

"Hey there, Jack," he whispered.

Warm tears wet his middle. "Lynette's a _meanie_ ," he mumbled. "She wouldn't let me sleep with her in her bed."

Rubbing a hand up and down his son's back, Alvin reminded him gently, "You do wet it sometimes."

"Yeah, _sometimes_. I went potty 'fore I asked," he grumbled, looking up at Alvin with his mother's sharp blue eyes.

Alvin kissed his son's dark, unruly curls. "Well," he said, "that's not right. How about I go talk to her for you, hm?"

Nodding, Jack let go of Alvin and rolled off him. Curling up in the spot he'd only recently vacated, he whispered, "Love you, Daddy."

His smile wobbly, he said, "Love you too, Jack."

Hurrying out of the room, Alvin had to take a moment in the hallway to gather himself together again. When he felt like his heart wasn't made out of cellotape and broken porcelain anymore, he went and opened his oldest daughter's door. On her bed Lynette was laid out. Her orange-red hair splayed around her and freckled arms thrown out as if she had stopped mid-way in making a snow angle. Standing there, Alvin clutched the doorknob almost hard enough to leave imprints on the palm of his hand.

The rest of the kids were a nice mix of Alvin and Rosemary. Jack and Laurel had his dark hair and square chin; Rosemary's curls and blue eyes. Julie's hair was red and curly, her eyes green, just like his own. Sometimes, Alvin thought she must look quite similar to her great-grandmother on his father's side when she was a girl. Lynette, though… While a redhead just like Julie, her hair was pinstripe straight and several shades lighter. Her eyes were blue ( _thank God_ ) and she was covered in freckles, just as you would expect from a stereotypical Weasley, and it was already quite clear to Alvin it would only be a matter of time before Laurel, Julie, and Jack were all taller than her.

'Lynette looks like Mum,' some deep, traitorous part of him whispered. His heart gave a deep, piercing ache. He hadn't thought of her in years. Not since Lynette was born. Staring at his still, unmoving daughter for a moment longer Alvin made his decision.

Approaching, he grabbed the towel Lynette kept hung by her closet off its hook and threw it at her. "Get up," Alvin said. "Go take a shower and get dressed. We're going to go see some people."

" _Some_ people?" Lynette repeated, tone questioning.

"Yeah," Alvin replied.

She scowled at him in a way that made his skin crawl. 'So much like Mum,' his mind whispered again.

* * *

_A gasp drawing his attention away from Rose's neck, Albus looked up just in time to see a flash of Lily's shocked face in his doorway before she disappeared._

_"Fuck!" he shouted._

_Rose, from beneath him, asked, "What? What's wrong?"_

_"Lily saw us!" he cried, already scrambling to put a pair of shorts on._

_Face ashen, Rose shook where she lay. "No. No, no, this can't be happening…"_

_Pulling her up, Albus roughly pulled her dress over her head as he snapped, "It_ is _happening! We always knew it could, so stop acting like an idiot and finish getting dressed!"_

_Eyes welling with tears, Rose dropped her gaze to her knees and whimpered, "S-Sorry."_

_Albus's eyes stung in response to Rose's quiet weeping. She was just scared, like he was. Any anger he'd felt now gone, Albus dipped his head down to press a kiss to Rose's cheek. "It's fine. I'm scared too."_

_"Really?"_

_He gave her his hand to hold. Her eyes widened. "How are you even standing right now? You're shaking so much!"_

_"Sheer will," Albus answered with the barest of smiles upon his lips. "Now, c'mon. We gotta leave. Our someday here is gone and we have to go find a new one."_

_Nodding, Rose got up and pulled on her knickers before helping Albus get out their getaway bag from beneath his bed as he took out their emergency portkey from his desk. A moment later, both of them stood at either end of the old-fashioned Muggle map that was their portkey. They looked at each other._

_"Ready?" Albus asked._

_"Yes," Rose answered._

_They touched the map, and with a sharp yank at their bellybuttons, they were gone._

_Gone forever to find their new someday._

-v-v-v-

'Except forever isn't as long as I believed it was,' Alvin thought as he and his children drew closer to the house he once called home. Upon reaching the little path that would lead to the red-painted front door of his childhood home, Alvin felt his hands grow slippery with sweat. He was so scared. Every part of him was telling him to turn around, to run, to _hide_.

('They could tear us apart! _'_ )

"Daddy?" Jack said.

Alvin bounced the boy a little higher on his hip. "Yes?"

Little face grave, Jack put his tiny hand to Alvin's forehead. "D'you gotta fever?"

He blinked. "No. I'm fine, Jack."

His son crinkled his nose. "Y'sure? You're all sweaty."

This drew the girls' attention. "What's wrong, Daddy?" Laurel asked.

"Nothing," Alvin said. "I'm just nervous."

"Why?" Lynette asked. Then, suddenly, she shouted, "Don't say nothing either! I'll know you're lying."

Alvin chuckled. 'So much like Mum,' he thought again. Smiling at her, he said, "We're about to meet some people I haven't seen since I was sixteen. I left on not so great terms and I'm a little worried about how this will all go."

"Why haven't you seen them in _sooo_ long?" Julie demanded with her little hands planted on her hip. 'And she's so much like Rosemary,' his mind reminded him, sending him tumbling into the void created by the loss of his wife. Clawing his way out of the jagged-depths that was his pain, Alvin locked his knees to keep them from collapsing beneath him.

He couldn't afford to shatter now. Not with the kids right here. He just had to make it a few more steps and then…

"I don't know," he lied. "I guess time got away from me."

None of the girls looked like they believed him, but Jack gave Alvin's collar a tug and said, "Let's go see them! I bet they miss you like we miss Mummy!"

Alvin's eyes swam with tears and Laurel gave a tiny sob. Reaching for his middle daughter, he hugged her close for a moment. After he let go, Alvin swiped a hand beneath his eyes and said, "Let's go."

He didn't know how much longer he could stay put together.

Walking up the door, he lifted the knocker and let if fall against the solid wood. As the second ticked by, his stomach began to churn and he feared that was going to be sick up all over his shoes when the door's knob began to turn.

One of his daughter's hands coming to squeeze his, Alvin could only stare with wide eyes at the painfully familiar woman who revealed herself on the other side of the door.

"I'm sorry," Alvin croaked before foisting Jack into Lynette's arms and falling to his knees. "I'm sorry," he sobbed.

Cool, freckled fingers caressed his face. "Al? Albus?"

Al ('I haven't been him in so long!') turned his head and kissed one of the hands that the fingers belonged to. "Mum."

Dropping to the ground beside him, his mother embraced him. "Albus, my Albus. Baby. _My baby_!"

Wrapping his arms around her in return, he clung tightly and prayed that he would never have to run from her again.


	2. Rekindling

Al didn't even have to open his eyes to know which of his children had crawled beneath his sheets to rest beside him. Turning on his side, he kept his eyes closed for a moment.

"Dad?"

Cracking an eye open, he asked, "What is it Lynette? You're too old to be crawling into bed with me."

Her lip quivered in the shadows. Like it once did when she was no higher than his hip and had nightmares about being eaten by werewolves (he used to lie then, tell Lynette that werewolves were myths, because that's what _Muggles_ believed, and he couldn't have her going to nursery school scaring _real_ Muggle children with the truth). "I miss home," she said.

"We've only been here two nights," Al reminded her.

Pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes, Lynette whispered, "They keep talking about her. If they aren't asking me questions, they tell me stuff about her from when she was my age."

Al reached out to pet his daughter's hair. "They mean well," he told her. "They just… For some people, it's comforting to remember happy moments they had with the one they lost."

"It's not for you, though."

He swallowed thickly. He and Lynette were alike in this way, just thinking about Rosemary – Rose – caused their stomachs to feel as if they'd been pummeled with fists and their eyes to sting with tears neither was willing to admit were even there. They'd decided weeks ago they'd be the strong ones. Though, really, Lynette was their family's lone pillar now. Al had crumbled at the sight of his mother. Fingers pausing in their ministrations, Al admitted, "No, it's not."

Snuggling close, his daughter laid her head on his shoulder and asked, "When are we going home, Dad?"

"Not for a while yet," Al said.

Sighing, Lynette mumbled, "If we stay here too long, people'll forget all about Frog Prince."

His heart stuttered at the reminder of his wife's second love. "If we don't go home by Friday, we'll take a trip to check on the Frog Prince Saturday morning, okay? We'll clean out the fridges and plan a date for re-opening."

Al's daughter smiled. "I like that plan, Daddy."

Kissing her forehead, Al whispered, "Go to sleep, darling."

"Mmm."

* * *

_Albus could no longer tell if he was dead or alive. For hours, people had walked past him and Rose. Some were alone, moving quickly, as if they had a place to be; others, just as alone, trudged along. It was like they dreaded where they had to go next. There were those who walked in pairs (couples, mothers and sons, brothers, coworkers and best friends) and finally, large groups. For his part, Albus tried to pretend all groups were made of friends and coworkers. In his deepest hearts, though, he knew most groups who passed him were families._

_Like the ones he and Rose had just this morning. His heart crumbling inside of his chest, Albus placed a hand atop it. It did nothing to ease the pain, but at least he knew he was alive once more. But if he allowed this to go on much longer…_

_Turning his head, he asked, "What do we do now, Rose?"_

_"Rose_ _mary. I'm Rosemary Smith. Soon-to-be Lawson, though. We're in love and you're planning to propose as soon as we turn eighteen," Rose informed him._

_Albus nodded. That sounded quite reasonable. Eighteen was the best age for things like that. "Lawson, huh? What's my first name?"_

_She narrowed her eyes. Thumb tapping away at her chin, she said in a halting tone, "Al–vin." A smile lifted her pink lips. Reaching out to caress his cheek, Rose whispered, you're Alvin Lawson. My one and only love."_

_The crumbling of his heart stopped. Staring into beautiful, shining blue eyes, Alvin felt it begin to piece itself back together again. His family from the morning might be lost, but a new one was just around the corner. Covering Rose, now Rosemary's, hand with his, Alvin smiled. "How about we're already eighteen? And engaged? We could marry right now if we are."_

_Tears sprang to Rosemary's eyes. "Yes. Let's get married right now, Alvin."_

_"I love you," Alvin whispered before leaning in to capture his fianc_ _ée_ _'s lips in a kiss._

-v-v-v-

Al almost fell out of his chair as a plate of eggs, sausage, and toast was put down in front of him. His mother sent him an amused look. "Thinking, dear?"

He smiled meekly. "Yes, a little," he answered. Picking up his fork and knife, he began to cut his sausage up as he said, "This Saturday I promised Lynette we'd go to the Frog Prince and clean it up a bit. It's been sitting closed going on three weeks now. The food that's in the fridges is probably rancid."

Taking a seat across from him, his mother leaned forward, mug of tea clutched in her hands. "Frog Prince?" she repeated, tone questioning.

Al nodded. "Rosema- Rose's restaurant. We serve New Orleans-inspired cuisine."

Mum sipped her tea. "That's an interesting choice of food. How'd you come up with it?"

"Remember that Disney movie Rose used to obsess over when we were little? _The Princess and the Frog_? It inspired us."

Setting down her cup, his mother's gaze turned distant. "I can't say I do," she said after a minute. "Rose always seemed to like a good princess story no matter who the princess was."

Al frowned. "She didn't like all of them. She hated _Sleeping Beauty_ , and _Snow White and the Seven Dwarves_ especially. The princesses never did anything in those ones."

Mum shifted her gaze back to her tea. "How about your girls and boy? Do they have a favorite movie? You've been raising them Muggle, haven't you?"

He couldn't stop himself from smiling. Frog Prince had been Rose's pride and joy, but the kids? Al was most proud of them; his four beautiful, loving, obstinate children. Waving his fork around, Al chattered happily, "Julie loves _The Princess and the Frog,_ just like Rose did. Lynette's always been a Pixar fan, though. Her and Jack were bonding over the _Toy Story_ series before… Well, before. As for Laurel, she doesn't really do favorites. Honestly, I think she'd rather like it if we left her to the drum-set we keep in the playroom instead of making her sit down for movie night with us!"

Mum chuckled weakly, a smile that was more a grimace stretched across her lips. "You sound like you were happy," she said.

"We were," Al replied, uncertain about the displeased expression she wore. What could be wrong with that? Mothers and fathers were supposed to be pleased when they heard that their child had found their bliss.

Dark eyes shimmering with tears, she whispered, "You would have never come back if Rose hadn't died, would you? We would have never met those darling children and I doubt even your _sister_ would have known they were yours when they came to Hogwarts. You were going to let me, your father, your brother, and sister, aunts and uncles, and cousins die wondering what happened to both of you! For all these years we've hoped… feared…" Standing now, his mother, shaking, hissed, "You, Albus, have no _respect_ for us, do you?"

Setting down his fork, he squared his jaw out and asked with icy precision, "If we had stayed after Lily discovered us, would those darling children even _exist_?"

His mother stared at him, mouth open ever so slightly, but unforthcoming with an answer.

Snorting, Al pushed away from the table and muttered, "I thought not."

From behind, an unsure voice called, "Daddy?"

Turning around, he forced a wide grin at the sight of his little boy. "Jack!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing over there? Come have some breakfast with Daddy and Grandma Ginny."

The little boy glanced between the two of them before scuttling into Al's waiting arms. Swinging the boy up, he sat back down and asked, "Want to finish Dad's breakfast? I don't think I can!"

Jack gave a shy smile as he nodded his head. Cutting up the eggs and sausage even smaller, Al talked to his son about the day's plans. Aunt Lily would be stopping by around lunch to finally meet them, Al was going to take him and his sisters out back for a ride on his old broom, for supper he was thinking about cooking jambalaya for everyone. Little by little, Jack relaxed and began to talk back and by the time the girls wandered into the kitchen, the tense atmosphere was nearly gone. The only thing that lingered was the pinched-expression on his mum's face as she put together plates for the rest of the children.

* * *

Lily stared at his children all lined in a row with assessing eyes. Approaching Lynette, she asked, "You're about eleven, aren't you?"

Al's daughter nodded. "Next month's my birthday."

His little sister flashed him a grin. "Should I be expecting her at Hogwarts, Albus?"

"It's Al. And I don't know. Rosema- Rose and I were thinking of homeschooling," he replied.

What little impishness had been in his sister's smile faded. "Think you can handle that alone?" she asked.

He scowled at his little sister. He didn't. Not really, anyway. Without Rose, a lot of things that once seemed possible felt impossible now. The last thing Albus wanted to do, though, was send his children to Hogwarts known as the grandchildren of Harry Potter. Flicking imaginary lint from his jacket, he said, "Even if she does go, she'll be a Lawson. No child of mine will go there with the Potter or Weasley name hanging over their heads."

"You know, Al, us Potters and Weasleys have done okay for ourselves these past seventeen years."

Al gave his sister a cool stare. "Really? You call two divorces in the span of a decade okay for yourself?"

Lily's face went red. "You are such a prat!" she snarled.

He said nothing and felt nothing. What did it matter if an all-but-stranger called him a prat? Turning to his kids, he told them, "You go on and play now. Dad and Aunt Lily have some things to discuss."

Lynette grabbed Jack's hand. "I'm not a little kid," she said before marching her siblings away and toward the old swing Al used to play on when he was their ages.

"She's…"

Al felt his lips quirk. "Lynette has Mum's temper."

"The others?"

"Jack's too young to say he's just like anyone yet. Laurel and Julie, though, I know them. Julie and Rosemary always got on like a house on fire. A perfect pair they were. Laurel's more… She's her own person. Quiet except for when she's whaling away on her drums."

"Not too different from you, then."

Al raised an eyebrow.

Lily shrugged. "You were quiet too. The only one you ever seemed to open up around was Rose."

He looked away. "You told Mum and Dad about us, didn't you?"

"Kind of had to, Al. When Mum and Dad are asking, 'Where's Albus? Where's Rose? When did you last see them?' You have to say something if you don't want feel like some kind of accomplice."

"After they heard, did they… Were they? Were they upset?" Al asked, dreading the answer.

"Mum cried," Lily said. "Then Dad told Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione and they started making plans for you two. They were going to send Rose to school in France, when they found you guys. See if that didn't fix things. Being with your cousin, like you were with Rose, it's _backwards_ , they said."

Al curled his hands into fists. "I love her and she loved me like no one else ever was going to." Heart hammering in his chest, he growled, "If they'd separated us, we would have killed ourselves."

His little sister turned her head and stared at him. He stared back and found something akin to understanding in her eyes. "It's a good thing you two knew how to disappear then, huh?"

He looked toward his children. Somehow, Lynette had found a way to make both of her sisters and brother fit on the swing. She was pushing them, eliciting shrieks from Laurel as she wobbled where she stood on the back of the swing. Julie and Jack grinned and laughed at Laurel's feet, jubilant. They never would have been, if not for them running away, he thinks.

"If we hadn't run, would you have told Mum and Dad?"

Lily hugged herself. "Then? Yeah. Now? No. I've tried to find the kind of love you two seem to have had. I failed to twice. When I found you and Rose, I didn't understand how rare or precious romantic love truly is."

"Then I'm not sorry for leaving," Al said.

His sister turned her gaze to the children. For a moment, there was silence. Lily uncrossed her arms and they fell loosely to her side. She seemed far more at ease than she had been the past fifteen minutes. Chancing a quick smile in his direction, she replied, "Good. That's good."

He grinned back, feeling much lighter now that he knew his sister accepted – and even embraced – his life choices.


	3. Clashing

_"Ta-da!" Alvin shouted as he let his hands fall away from Rosemary's eyes._

_For a moment, she was completely still. Alvin imagined she was taking in the four walls with the same consideration he had only a few hours earlier. She turned around and gave him a mildly amused look. "We don't have anywhere to eat."_

_Alvin scoffed. "Of course we do! Did you miss the bed over there?" he asked, pointing to the mattress that was to be their marriage bed._

_She turned away and said, "This place is going to need a lot of work…"_

_"Yeah, yeah okay," Alvin acquiesced. "But take a step out onto the patio. It's an amazing view."_

_Rosemary gave him a small smile, partly teasing, partly doubtful. "Is amazing a code word for 'we get to stare out at the rubbish bins'?"_

_"No!"_

_Laughing at his indignation, Rosemary let Alvin guide her across the efficiency and out the sliding doors. Once outside, Rosemary's laughter died out. "A park, we get to look out over a park," she whispered._

_Alvin kissed her cheek. "See those bushes over there? I'm told they'll start flowering soon. It's going to be very pretty."_

_Rosemary twisted her head to grin at him. "This is wonderful, Alvin."_

_"I'm glad you think so," he returned before stealing a kiss from her smiling lips._

* * *

Al watched his son kick a football to his cousin. The little boy managed to catch it with his foot and volley it back in the nick of time. Face brightening considerably at the accomplishment, Arthur yelled, "I did it!"

Beaming proudly, Jack shouted, "Yeah you did!" Having caught the ball himself, Al's little footie player said, "Let's see if you can't do it again!" before kicking the ball back to his cousin.

Once again, Arthur just barely managed to stop it and kick it away again.

"I hope Jack's not disappointed by Arthur's football skills. Bridget isn't really one for sports and well, you know what sport I like," James said from behind.

Al turned his head to smile at his brother. "He's beside himself with joy, honestly. He's never been the one to teach anybody anything."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Al returned, dipping his head in the direction of the girls. They were crowded around his moblie, face-timing with one of Lynette's mates. After almost four days with no contact between them and their friends, they had gotten whiny. They were so used to having everything at the tips of their little pointers that this "retreat", as Al had come to term it, was getting to them. In another five minutes they'd give a couple of Laurel's mates a ring.

"He's got three big sisters who've always been coaching him and never needed any back."

James chuckled. "Suppose you're right," he said. Then, after what James must have felt was too many beats of silence, he commented with a mixture of bemusement and distaste, "They're as bad as real Muggle kids, aren't they? Can't bear to be away from a screen."

Al frowned. "They were Muggle kids up until we came here."

His brother's eyebrow jumped high on his forehead. "You and Rose didn't even tell them magic existed?"

"No," he answered. "Anyway, when the time came, we were planning to homeschool them. Or to send them abroad."

James whistled lowly. "Whoa," he said. "What're you going to do now? Do you think you could even handle homeschooling on your own?"

He glowered. "I'm sure I could figure out something," Al replied. "It's not like Rosem – Rose and I were dunderheads. We managed to make it in the Muggle world without ever drawing anyone's attention."

"You're right," his brother said. "You two did manage. Maybe better than the rest of us, even. But… You know we're here for you, right? You might have run, you might not even really be Albus anymore, but you're still my baby brother. My family. I want to help where I can. If you need someone to ever take the kids off your hands for an evening or Saturday or something, just give Bridget or me a ring. We'd be glad to have them." Grinning, he added, "So would Arthur over there."

Al looked back toward the boys. Jack was showing Arthur how to bounce the football on his head now. Jack wasn't very good at it, only managing to bounce it two or three times in a row, but that didn't seem to matter in the slightest to Arthur. Arthur stared at Jack like he was a superstar, hero-worship plain in his big brown eyes.

It made Al's heart hurt. He remembered when he used to feel that way about James. The way he was always so awed by the way James could draw a crowd's attention and make them laugh. The way he wished and wished he could be so comfortable with all the attention that they received for nothing more than being Saint Potter's children. Al really never did reach that same ease (despite his best efforts), but in the end he'd found he was okay with that. James had been happy to ham it up for the both of them and let Al rest comfortably in the background.

Smiling, he reached over and gave his brother a side-arm hug. "Thanks, James."

* * *

"Hermione and Ron will be back from Australia tomorrow," Dad announced.

Passing off his hand of cards to Julie, Al said, "Julie, Daddy's skipping out a few rounds. Play in my place, will you?"

The girl grinned. "Sure!" she replied, snatching his cards up and shuffling them in with hers (despite the way Lynette and Laurel complained that it was cheating).

Pointing his dad toward the kitchen, Al said, "Let's go talk in there."

His dad frowned, but followed nonetheless.

Once in the kitchen, Al asked, "Can you cast a Muffliato or silencing spell?"

"What, can't do it yourself?"

Al ground his teeth together. His wand was still locked away in his closet at home – as he'd told his parents several times over. "Dad."

The man waved his wand, casting a silencing spell. Crossing his arms, Dad said, "You'll have to tell them about what happened to Rose, and about the kids."

He blinked in surprise. "No one's told them?"

Dad looked away. "No one liked the idea of ruining their holiday."

Nodding, Al asked, "When will they be back tomorrow? Early? Late? I promised Lynette we would go clean up Frog Prince a bit. It's not like here's going to be there first stop either, right? I'm sure they'll want to go home and rest before they start seeing you or anyone else…"

"You can't shirk out of this, Albus, it's your responsibility."

Al felt his hackles rise. Since he'd come back with the kids, Dad was always reading negatively into the things he said. If Al said dinner was fine, Dad tried to chide him for insulting Mum's cooking. It was getting rather ridiculous and Al didn't think he could be calm about things any longer. Turning a snarl on his father, Al snapped, "I have no plans to! I'm not some good-for-nothing asshole! I was Rosemary's husband and I will tell her parents what happened to her!"

"I'm glad," Dad said. Easing himself into a chair at the breakfast nook, he remarked, "It's good to see you've matured."

Narrowing his eyes, Al asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Not flinching at his glare, Dad stared right back and said, "I mean, you've learned to face things head on. Bravely. Like a true Gryffindor. The way you and Rose left all those years ago, running after you were caught, was far from grownup, wouldn't you agree?"

Al wasn't sure he could believe what he was hearing. Was his dad saying Al and Rose should have stayed just so they could be ripped apart? What was so brave about letting go of the one you loved without a fight? That's what running away had been, a lone Protego against an arsenal of hexes, jinxes, and curses that were about to fly their way.

"Dad, if we'd had stayed here, you would have separated us."

His dad sighed. "Yes, we would have," he agreed. "Albus, we're not living in the twentieth century anymore. Cousins… Cousins having relations is backwards. It's an affront to all the change that myself, your mother, aunts, and uncles have fought for." Eying Al, he added, "And died for."

Shaking, Al fisted his hands into his pant-legs to keep them from flying out to hit the old man in front of him. "We weren't just having sex," he hissed. "We were in love. Like you and Mum are, like Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron! Those four kids out there are the proof of it!"

"We've had a lot of time to think about things, since you and Rose ran away," Dad said slowly. "Your brother, sister, and cousins always seemed to manage all the attention they received for being Potters and Weasleys quite well. You and Rose, on the other hand… You always seemed to flounder; never knew how to answer when people spoke to you or asked questions. You were sensitive. Far more sensitive to the papers and looks and whispers than any of us ever realized when you were growing up." Eyes shining, his father whispered, "And we're sorry we never did. If we had, you and Rose would not have become so broken or messed up. You would have not turned to each other."

Al had to take a seat. Staring at his dad, he found himself at a loss. What did you say to a man who thought he was at fault for his son and his niece falling in love? Yes, the fame of being Harry Potter's son and Harry Potter's goddaughter had played a part in bringing them together. It would have been strange if it hadn't. Yet… There had always been something between them. Something that ran deeper than the two of them ever really understood. They'd always just felt complete in one another's company.

"There was more to it," he said.

Dad snorted. "Like what?"

"We… Remember how we used to play twins?"

A smile quirked at the ends of his dad's mouth. "Yes."

Nodding, Al explained, "Sometimes, it was more than just play to us. We really believed it. I can't – God, how do I explain this? There was always this tie between us. It was like an invisible string, I guess. Rosem – Rose and me, we would talk about it, but never could figure out why we felt what we did." Sitting up a little straighter as a new thought came to him, Al asked, "Do you know that our first memories were of each other? Dad, all we can remember is there being an _us_ , never an I."

Running a hand through his hair, Al said, "Yeah, the fame probably messed with us a bit. We sure as hell didn't believe anyone apart from ourselves could ever truly love us as we dreamed of, but I think we could have happened even it hadn't been there. It would have been a lot stranger, if it had happened the same way in such a world, but it could still exist like it did here."

Dad shook his head. "You were family."

"I loved Rose. I loved her in every way anyone could ever want to be loved. She loved me the same. Can't you just put aside the fact we were family and be glad we found someone to share our lives with, like you do with Mum?" Al pleaded, hoping that his father would see their love for the pure thing it was.

He looked away. "Cousins, Albus. You and Rose were cousins."

Shoulders falling in defeat, Al rose from his seat and left the room.


	4. Parting

Throwing his cleaning rag in the bucket of water beside him, Al finally stood up straight for the first time in hours. It felt good. Stretching his arms upward to relieve the tension in his muscles, he did a slow turn of the kitchen. It looked quite a bit better than it had when they arrived. It almost seemed to gleam in the white lights overhead (Rosemary would have been so pleased; she always took gleeful pleasure in turning a pristine kitchen into a mess). Perhaps if all went well this week, they could finally reopen Sunday.

When they opened their doors to let jazz spill out onto the street, the staff, regulars, and the kids alike would be overjoyed. Staff would smile and laugh, glad that they would not to search for a new job, regulars would rush in to buy Frog Prince's ever-popular beignets to share with their mates and family and the kids would chases each other around the restaurant, pleased to be home again.

Most of all, though, everyone would know the Lawson family was on the mend.

Strengthened by his vision for the future, Al smiled. When he turned to see how his daughter was doing, he felt his smile waver just ever so slightly. She was putting the last of the silverware into the bins they kept them in. They were really done and that meant a visit to Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron's was in order. "Ready?" he asked.

Lynette nodded. "Do we have to pick up stuff for dinner at Grandma Ginny and Grandpa Harry's?" she asked.

Al shook his head. "They have it covered," he said. Eying her carefully, he inquired, "Would you like to meet your other grandparents with me?"

"Sure," she said, shrugging.

He was sure she had more of an opinion on it than her flippant shrug had shown, but Al didn't want to push it. He was just glad he wasn't going to have to go to Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron's alone. "Okay, come here. Dad's going to apparate us there."

His daughter's nose curled in displeasure. "Do we have to? It made my stomach feel like it got flipped upside down when we used it to come to Frog Prince."

Al smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, love. It's the quickest way."

Sighing dramatically, the girl shoved her hands into the pouch of her sweatshirt and approached. Gently brushing long hair away from her shoulder, Al asked as he came to grip her shoulder, "Ready?"

She met his gaze, blue eyes determined."Yes."

* * *

_Alvin drank in the sight of his firstborn. She was no bigger than his forearm, light as a teddy, had the face of an angel and a thick head of Weasley-red hair. Turning to Rosemary, he said, "She a right Weasley, isn't she? I bet she ends up with Mum's complexion too."_

_Rosemary stared at him. "She's not a Weasley. Our daughter is a Lawson and she will look like herself and no one else, Alvin!" she hissed._

_His happiness crumbled. Setting his daughter back in her hospital bassinet, Alvin sat down beside his wife. Taking Rosemary's hand in his, he kissed it. Then once more before he whispered, "I'm sorry."_

_Turning her hand in his grip, Rosemary eased it out of his hold to come and cup his cheek. "It's okay," she whispered. "I… I almost wish my mum was here right now." Her blue eyes grew with slight panic as she hurriedly assured, "Not that I would give us up for anything! It's just she would be able to give me advice, watch over our Lynette so I can rest when you're working the cart."_

_"You can rest now," Alvin said._

_Leaning in for a kiss, Rosemary smiled. "Thank you, my love. But I think I want to watch our daughter with you a little longer."_

_Smiling back, Alvin threaded his fingers with his wife's. They then turned their gazes upon their daughter and let peaceful quiet reign._

* * *

Aunt Hermione's expression was one of astonishment. Al did his best to smile back at her. She reached out a shaking hand and touched his cheek. Her mouth dropped open when her cold fingers brushed his stubble-roughened cheek. Pulling her hand back, she balled it over her heart and smiled. "Albus?" she whispered.

Al winced. "Al," he said.

Eyes roving from him, to his daughter, to behind them she asked, "Is Rose…?"

Tightening his hold on Lynette, Al shook his head. "She died."

Aunt Hermione's hands flew to her face, eyes watering as she half-turned away from them. Before her grief could truly take her to her knees, Al pushed Lynette forward and said, "This is your granddaughter, Lynette. You have two more, Laurel and Julie, and a grandson, Jack."

With misty eyes, Aunt Hermione murmured, "Lynette looks like your mother."

Al's mouth upturned in a slight smile. "Yes, she does," he agreed.

Briefly, Aunt Hermione's eyes shined with something akin to mirth. Then, just as suddenly as it had taken her, it was replaced with raw, untamable sorrow. Sobbing, Aunt Hermione hunched forward, barely able to support herself on the door frame. Giving Lynette a squeeze, he let her go. Taking Aunt Hermione by the elbow, Al suggested, "Let's go take a seat in the living room, yeah?"

Nodding, the woman let Al lead her into the familiar room. Looking around, Al was surprised by how little it had changed since he was a teenager. Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron had the same sofa and recliner, arranged in the same manner, the same photos on the walls, and the same books lined the same bookshelves placed against the back wall.

It made Al feel like he was sixteen again and that Rose would come bounding in at any moment to greet him. Clamping down the urge to cry, Al breathed in deeply through his nose and focused his attention on getting Aunt Hermione to the sofa. "Where's Uncle Ron?" Al asked as he lowered her to the sofa.

Dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, Aunt Hermione said, "I sent him out to pick up a few things for dinner."

Al hummed and gestured for his daughter to take a seat in the recliner. Lynette, though, ignored him in in favor of circling the room. As she walked, her expression slowly turned from one of unease to shock.

"Daddy…" she whispered.

Distractedly, Al asked, "Yes, Lynette?"

"Are… Are Grandma Ginny and Grandpa Ron related?"

Al froze. He had not thought any of his children would unravel the secret with such ease. With forced calm, he said, "They're brother and sister."

Turning to face him, Lynette wore an expression that could only be described as disbelief. "You and Mum are… Were cousins?"

"Yes," Al replied. What else could he say? The evidence was right there in front of his daughter's nose.

Lynette went and sat down. "That's kind of gross," she said after a moment.

Beside him, Aunt Hermione made an odd noise in the back of her throat. Al wasn't sure what it could mean (nor did he really care to). Right now, he had to try and change his daughter's opinion of his and Rose's relationship, not ask Aunt Hermione what that noise was for. "Maybe," Al allowed. "But, it's like they say, love doesn't know boundaries." Then, after waiting a few moments for the words to sink in, he asked, "Isn't that truly what matters? That your mother and I loved each other despite what we were?"

"I suppose," Lynette replied. His daughter frowned in contemplation. Crossing her legs, then uncrossing them, she leaned forward and asked, "Is that why we didn't have grandpas, grandmas, aunts, uncles and cousins until this week?"

Al sighed. "Yes," he answered. "When we… left home, we had decided to never come back." He smiled weakly at his daughter, then at his aunt. "Things have changed, of course. Having human mortality shoved in your face does that."

Aunt Hermione's said, "You're staying for dinner."

"Aunt Hermione–"

Glaring, she repeated, "You and your daughter are staying for dinner."

"Okay," Al agreed, cowed. "Let me just go give Mum a call. Her and the rest of the kids will be wondering where we got off to."

Having relaxed considerably, Aunt Hermione said, "Alright."

Standing up again, Al gave his daughter a long look. "I'll be just a room away, okay?"

Lynette rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Dad. I'm not a baby. Go!"

Chuckling despite everything, Al left the room. Once in the kitchen, he stopped in front of the hearth and just stared at it for a moment. It had been so long since he made a firecall… Would it be just as he remembered? Or had things changed here as they did in the Muggle world?

From the other room, Aunt Hermione's voice drifted in. "Let me get a good look at you… Oh, you have Rose's eyes…"

"…It's – It's okay, Grandma Hermione. You don't have to cry…"

Al let his eyes slip closed for a moment. Tonight was going to be far more difficult than anything he'd faced yet. He couldn't wait for Uncle Ron to hear the news. God knew exactly who he was going to blame for Rose's death.

* * *

As Al had expected, dinner was an all around unpleasant affair. Aunt Hermione occasionally sniffled into her napkin and Uncle Ron glared. Al wanted to be mad at his Uncle for the mean look he wore, but he couldn't be. If you looked just a little deeper, a little longer, you could see the glare was nothing but a ruse. A cover for the clenched jaw biting back sobs and the trembling frown his lips were curved into.

Al, feeling he was at fault, tried not to do anything worth drawing notice from them. It was bad enough he had to be the harbinger of Rose's death, he didn't need to be the cause of further agitation. As for Lynette, she took small bites of her dinner while glancing between them as if they were all some sort of puzzle. Finally, after a long time, she asked, "In the pictures of you all, there were some of Mum with a boy. He had brown hair and looked a lot like Grandma Hermione, but tall like Grandpa Ron."

Aunt Hermione smiled. "That's your Uncle Hugo."

"Will we meet him soon? We've met Uncle James, Aunt Bridget, and Aunt Lily already."

"I suppose," Aunt Hermione answered as she shared a look with Uncle Ron. "We're going to have to tell him about… about your mother. He'll want to meet you when he hears." She looked Al's way. "And speak to you, I'm sure, Albus."

Al closed his eyes. "It's Al, and okay. Send him to Mum's when he wants to see me."

"Why don't you bring the rest of your kids here?" Uncle Ron suggested. "It'd be nice to spend some proper quality time with all of them."

"Are you sure? Wouldn't you rather have some time to, ah, mourn?" Al asked.

Uncle Ron's blue eyes turned glacial. "We're fine. We've had years to."

"Ron!" Aunt Hermione hissed. "Al is just trying to be considerate!"

Uncle Ron scoffed. "Considerate would have been not running off with our daughter."

Al dropped his fork to the table with a growl. Uncle Ron had gone a jab too far. His running away with Rose had been nothing but considerate. Would it have been better if he left her behind? Or had them stay so they could be broken apart and suffer? 'No, it would not have been!,' a voice deep inside snarled.

Standing up, he said, "Lynette, let's go."

"Where are you going?" Aunt Hermione cried.

His daughter's hand in his, Al was going to ignore them completely in favor of returning to his mother's for the night when, all of the sudden, the floor came rushing up to meet him. Incapable of so much as blinking, Al could only listen as his daughter began to scream.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

"Ron! What in Merlin's name were you thinking?"

"He was going to leave! He was going to take our granddaughter! We were going to lose them!"

"Daddy…" his little girl whimpered, small hands tugging at him, trying to flip him over.

Al wished he could move so he could hold her. Al wished he could move so he could hex his Uncle Ron. Al wished he could move so he really could leave him and this family once and for all.

He was so tired, but no one seemed to care. All they wanted to do was force him to talk about his life with Rosemary. Couldn't they see it just hurt to say her name? Couldn't they see he needed them to bite their tongues and help him with his children so he could properly rebuild himself into an Al that was both Alvin and Albus? An Al who could give them all the answers they wanted without him being stung by every one?

'No, they can't. They never understood what you needed,' a vicious, angry part of him hissed. 'The only one who did was–"

The furious voice was abruptly silenced when, from above, Aunt Hermione let out a frustrated groan before her hand settled beside his daughter's to help her. A moment later, he was looking up into their faces. His daughter wore an expression of anguish and his aunt one of grief.

"I'm going to cast the reversal. Please… Please don't leave, Albus," she begged. Just as promised then, Aunt Hermione performed the counter to the full body-bind curse he was under.

However, he did not heed her plea. Fingers wrapping around his daughter's hand, he apparated them away.

-v-v-v-

"Al!" his mother yelped at the sight of him materializing right in front of her.

Fury burning hot in his heart, he spat, "Me and the kids are leaving."

"What? What happened?" she asked, following after him and Lynette as they hurried into the living room.

Ignoring her completely, Al snapped, "Girls! Jack! Come here right now!"

The children, who had been seated around their grandfather, listening to some story from his time as an Auror, ran to his side. When they were all in arms reach, he lifted Jack to his shoulders and pressed Julie and Laurel close. Glaring at his confused-face parents, he snarled, "Goodbye for good!"

Their shocked expressions were the last sight he saw before the apparation distorted everything as it swallowed him and his children up to deliver them safely home again.


	5. Reconciling

_"Ba, ba, ba," Lynette burbled in Alvin's ear as she pulled herself closer to him by his hair. Bouncing his growing daughter a little higher on his hip to ease the pain, Alvin forgot to pull his hair away altogether when his wife exited their soon-to-be restaurant's kitchen. Hurrying over to her, he beamed hopefully at the sight of her inscrutable expression._ _"So, what do you think? The kitchen's great, isn't it?" he asked, eager to have Rosemary agree._

_Rosemary's lips puckered. "Yes, but the seating area is kind of small…" she said, gesturing to the room behind Alvin._

_"Half of those who come in will want food to take away, not to eat in the restaurant," Alvin replied, thinking of the loyal customers who visited their cart on a weekly basis. Chances were they'd still want their lunches and dinners to go, not to eat in._

_Chewing on her lip, Rosemary absently reached for Lynette who was screeching for her now. Once the baby was settled against her neck, she quieted down and allowed Rosemary to be heard when she mumbled, "I suppose."_

_"Trust me, would you? Cook your food and leave the customers to me," Alvin said as he brought his girls close to hold._

_Blue eyes shinning like dazzling jewels, Rosemary craned her neck to press a kiss to Alvin's cheek. "I always do, my love."_

_"Thank you," Alvin whispered as the heat of love fanned through him, warming all of him._

* * *

Al glared at his reflection in the mirror. For the past half an hour, he had been desperately trying tie a bow that wasn't crooked. Undoing it once more, he thumbed the patterned fabric and wondered if he shouldn't go dig around his closet for one of the clip-ons he'd bought when Laurel and Julie were babies and Lynette a green-eyed monster that was always throwing tantrums. They'd been handy then, when he couldn't always count on Rosemary to tie his bow-tie for him.

Giving the end of the bow he was holding a tug, Al felt his stomach begin to knot. Giving up was something he'd never done before, though. Why should he start now? ' _At the very least, I should try this one more time,_ ' he thought.

"Daddy?"

Al sighed and let the ends of his bow-tie fall by his collarbone undone. He would have to learn tomorrow, it seemed. If Laurel was here to bother him, it meant the rest of the kids were ready to go to Frog Prince too. He could just picture Lynette tapping her foot downstairs now, scowling at his keys hung on the hook beside the door. Al was sure if he made Lynette wait much longer she'd take the keys and drive herself and the rest of the kids to Frog Prince on her own. She had too little patience and too much daring, (he feared for her teenage years).

Finally turning to face his middle daughter, Al asked with a forced smile, "Yes?"

Twisting her fingers, she said nothing; a look hesitation upon her features.

"Laurel," he groaned, patience wearing thin at her reluctance to speak.

Eyes going wide at his tone, Laurel questioned in a great rush, "What happens if you die too?"

He blinked. Of all the questions he'd been expecting her to ask, that had not been one of them. But why shouldn't Al have expected the question? He'd been pondering the exact same thing lately. Before, him and Rose simply hadn't been willing to contemplate a scenario where both of them were gone and their children alone and too young to fend for themselves. Now, though, he was beginning to wonder if he shouldn't write into his will that James or Lily were to become the guardians of his kids. Becoming lost in thought for a moment, Al was only snapped back to the present when his daughter grabbed his arm. Laughing sheepishly, he asked, "Can you repeat that?"

Laurel puffed out her cheeks, all unease gone and annoyance taking its place. "What happens if you die?"

"Well, the country will take care of you. They'll make sure you and your siblings all have someone who will care for you and give you a place to live," Al answered.

"In a movie I saw at Bea's, there were these kids who lost both their mummy and daddy and went to live with their aunt," Laurel said. "Will Aunt Lily or Aunt Bridget let us live with them if you die?"

Al got down on his knees and brought his daughter close to hold. "I'm sure they would, if they knew," he assured.

Hugging him back, Laurel said, "That's good. I was scared we'd get split up."

Pulling his daughter away from him, Al said, "I'd never let that happen to you guys. Family needs to stick together."

Smiling now, Laurel gave one end of his bow-tie a tug. "Want me to tie it, Daddy? Like Mummy used to?"

"You don't have to…"

Already tying it, his daughter replied, "But I know how, and want to. I love you _._ "

Al felt a lump in his throat form. _God,_ these kids. He needed to make sure he kept his word to Laurel. He would have to look into putting a will together very soon. The last thing he wanted to do was lose his children's love and leave them with a lingering feeling of disappointment and shock, should he die before they were grown, and they were split up because he left nothing behind to indicate who should take them in.

* * *

"Kate, can you get table nine?" Al asked as he passed the young waitress on his way toward the host podium.

She bobbed her head. "Got it," Kate said before hurrying off in the direction of the table. As Al scanned the restaurant's activity, he was rather pleased by all the laughter and chatter. Since opening on Wednesday, they had been busier than usual. He knew it wouldn't last forever, but it sure was a nice boost for them all. From the kid's table he kept near the front, Jack shouted, "Daddy! Can we have more lemon squash?"

"Just a minute, Jack," he called back. There were a couple and another man hovering near the podium. They needed to be seated before he could get the kids something to drink.

Reaching the podium, he smiled at the elderly gentlemen holding hands. "Just two?" he asked.

They nodded. "It's our anniversary," one said.

Al ignored the way his heart twisted at the word, at knowing he would never have another with Rosemary. "Isn't that nice? Be sure to let your waiter know, too." He leaned in and whispered, "They've been known to give out free desserts on special occasions."

The pair smiled and just as Al was about to seat them, he finally caught a glimpse of the young man behind them. His heart stopped. Eyes darting around for the closest employee, Al barked, "Taylor! I need you to seat these gentlemen!"

Taylor, a third-year university student, raised an eyebrow at Al's tone. He'd been working for Al going on four years now and was quite familiar with Al's tones. This one was rare for him to use and it was surely going to raise a few questions later.

"Yessir," the younger man said as he took the menus from Al and said to the couple, "This way, mates. We just had a table by the window open up…"

Wiping his sweaty palms on the pant-legs of his khakis, Al approached the familiar man. "Hugo," he greeted.

Turning, the taller man asked, "Do you talk to all of your employees like that?"

"Only when I get an unexpected visits from a cousin I haven't seen in close to twenty years."

Hugo pouted. "Cousin? Come on, Al, I'm your brother now! Unless Mum and Dad were wrong about you and Rose being married? Are my nieces and nephew bastards?" he asked, a teasing lilt to his tone.

Al scowled. "We're not talking about this here," he said. "Follow me out back. The door in the kitchen is probably open. Harold is cooking today and he likes to take frequent smoke breaks."

"Mmm…" Hugo mumbled as his eyes roved around, taking in the activity around them.

It made Al wonder what he thought of Frog Prince. If he was impressed, if he was comparing it to restaurants he knew in the magical world, if he could see the touches Rose made to the decorations. Finally reaching the alleyway out back, he asked, "What's brought you by today?"

Hugo stared at him for a long moment, like he couldn't decide what he should say. Finally, he said, "Dad. He said he's sorry."

"Why's he not here apologizing himself?" Al questioned as he settled his back against the brick wall of Frog Prince, hands in his pockets.

Barking a laugh, Hugo replied, "Because he was sure you would hex him the moment he walked into your restaurant. Muggles be damned!"

Scowling in offense, Al told his cousin, "I would never. Besides, I don't carry my wand on me." Hugo raised a disbelieving eyebrow, but instead of going out of his way to prove him wrong, Al mused aloud, "Though, if he _had_ walked in I would have yelled at him."

"See? Dad was right!" Hugo proclaimed, wearing a wide, smug grin. Al balled his hands into fists, this was one of the several reasons for why he'd never really liked Hugo. Hugo always had to be right. At Al's silence, he huffed, "Come on, Albus, don't look at me like that."

Grinding his teeth together, Al hissed, "It's _Al_."

Hugo rolled his eyes. "Look, you should really give Dad and everyone else a second chance. They promise to be on their best behavior. They _want_ you and the kids around."

Al shook his head. "I can't."

"What?"

Al looked skyward. "Do you know why I came back?"

"Because Rose–"

"I could have sent a letter if all I wanted to do was let you lot know she was dead," Al cut in. "I came back because I was weak." A feeling of disgust washing over him, Al said, "Rosemary never would have, if it'd been me instead of her. She probably had a little plan for herself in case of such a scenario. Rose liked having plans, you know?" He smiled faintly. "Me on the other hand… I work a lot more on instinct. Emotions. I don't know if you saw her in there, but Lynette looks a lot like Mum. After pacing the hallways of our house for about two weeks after Rosemary's funeral, I knew something needed to change. I just didn't know what. Then, when I went to talk to Lynette about something, I _saw_ her. I saw Mum in her." Blinking back sudden tears, he said, "I just wanted my mum then. I wanted to go cry on her shoulder like a little boy and believe she'd be able to help me fix my problems."

"Al…"

Turning a harsh glare on Hugo, he snarled, "I was _wrong_. Seeing them did nothing to help me. Rosemary is still gone, the Frog Prince still needs to be run, and I don't know what to do about the kids educations anymore than I did at the start of the summer!"

Instead of recoiling, Al's cousin stepped forward and hugged him tightly. Stunned, Al could only bring a hand up to pat Hugo's back when his hug turned a little too tight.

"I'm sorry, Al," Hugo whispered. "I'm sorry you feel like we let you down again."

"It's okay," Al replied.

Hugo pulled back and glared. "It's not!" he snapped. "Merlin! Look what we've done to you! We chased you away for a _second_ time! What if you'd gotten it in your head to leave Britain altogether with your kids after what we did? You'd have been lost to us for a second time!"

"Well, yeah, I guess that's true…"

"It _is_ and I'm sorry – even if no one else is," Hugo proclaimed.

Suspiciously, Al eyed Hugo. He looked earnest enough, but he'd always had a way of talking big without following through. "Okay," he said. "What are you going to do to prove it?"

Hugo blinked. "Huh?"

"What are you going to do to show me you're really sorry?" Al asked.

"Well, ah, you do have a lot of kids. They were inside there with you, right? Um, I could move in for the rest of the summer? Most of my job I can do from home, so, you wouldn't have to bring them here with you all of the time…"

Al grinned. "You know what, Hugo? I'll take you up on that offer. I'm sure the kids will love having you around for a few weeks."

"Great," Hugo said, not sounding at all excited.

Reaching for a pen and pad of paper from his apron, Al scribbled down his family's address and gave it to Hugo. "I'll expect to see you at seven sharp!" he said.

A lost expression overcoming his features, Hugo looked between the paper and Al and said, "You don't think it'd be better to start this tomorrow?"

"Oh, don't look so worried. The kids are going to adore you," Al assured his cousin.

Some of Hugo's unease faded. "You think? Because Teddy's seem to hate me. I can never leave his place without missing eyebrows or rainbow stripes across my arse or something worse."

Al laughed. "Really, don't worry. They're witches and wizards, but they have been raised like Muggles. If anything, they'll ignore you in favor of the telly and their moblies."

Placing a hand over his chest, Hugo gave a belly-deep sigh. "Seven sharp, then."

"See you later, Hugo."

With one last grin, Al's cousin vanished. Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, Al contemplated the way things could change so quickly once again. The last time he'd considered time and events had been after he identified Rose's body. He'd been full of regret then, wishing he'd been the one to go out and buy more flour instead of her, now, though, he was full of a mixture of trepidation and hope. He feared for how attached the kids would become to Hugo and the summer's end when everything would be carried by him alone again. He looked forward to the help, the chance to learn how the Weasleys were doing without having to reach out to all of them himself. Most of all, Al–

"Hey, Alvin?"

Al turned. "What is it, Taylor?"

Scanning the alleyway, he asked, "Did that guy go?"

"You mean my cousin? Yeah, he's gone."

Taylor did a convincing impression of a goldfish. "I didn't know you had a cousin!" he exclaimed once finished with his impression.

"He's been living abroad until recently," Al lied. "Start expecting that more family might pop in now and again. They're coming out of the woodwork these days," he grumbled.

The younger gave a hesitant smile. "That's not such a bad thing, though, is it? With Rosemary gone…"

Al sighed. "You're right," he said as he walked toward the doorway in which Taylor hovered. "It's not the end of the world, just the start of a new one."

As Taylor stepped aside, he gave Al a funny look, but said nothing. Al was rather glad for it. He was tired of talking about family.


	6. Breaking

Hugo always had a gift for gab. In fact, when they were kids, Hugo used to tell tales all the time about himself. He'd do ridiculous, impossible things in them. One that had always been a secret favorite of Al's was a fairytale where Hugo rode a Hippogriff bareback. While Hugo's stories had always been entertaining, what had ruined them as children was his cousin's insistence that they were all true.

Everyone knew they were lies and Hugo arguing the opposite had only lead to him getting throttled by the likes of their older cousins and Al's siblings (most notably, James and Roxanne, who could never stand the ludicrous stories in the first place). Thankfully, age appeared to have taught Hugo to tone down the fantastical elements in his stories. Half the time, Al was even ready to believe what his cousin was spouting. Even so, Al still suspected most of what Hugo told was lies, (just more cleverly woven than those he told as a child).

"–and that's how I beat Valerie Slughorn in a duel while under a langlock curse!"

The children just stared at Hugo, awe and adoration clear on their round faces. Finally, Jack threw up his arms and shouted, "Wow! You're so _cool_ , Uncle Hugo!"

Al rolled his eyes as his cousin preened under the four-year-old's praise. God, this was becoming sickening to watch. No wonder Teddy's kids disliked him. While most of what Hugo was jabbering was pretty reasonable, _that_ story had strayed into fantasy far too much. Al bet if Hugo was telling Teddy's kids stories like that one all of the time, they felt quite insulted. They were magic-born, magic-raised children (unlike his own) and knew what was and wasn't feasible with a wand. Having someone outright lie to you did not endear his or her person to you in the slightest. Shaking his head, Al stood up from his armchair. Looking out the window that was now in view, he grinned.

The clouds from the morning were gone and Al still had four hours until he needed to show up for the evening shift at Frog Prince. With a wide smile, he called, "Hey, who wants to go to the park?"

Laurel and Jack ran from the room, only to return moments later with six pairs of shoes between them. "Let's go!" Laurel shouted, dropping her pile of shoes on the floor.

"Can I stay here?" Lynette asked, eyes glued to her moblie.

Al shook his head, amused. "Sorry, love, but we're _all_ going."

The girl huffed her annoyance, but argued no more (Al suspected she didn't push the issue out of fear of being told to leave her moblie at home). Picking his shoes up from the diminished pile, Al snagged Hugo's while he was at it and then threw them at his cousin.

Hugo failed to catch the loafers, causing one to bounce off his knee and hit him in the chin. Al laughed. Even after all of these years, his cousin was no more athletic than he had been as a gangly teenager. Hugo glared at him. Grinning, he said, "Aw, don't glare at me, Hugo, there's finally some _sun_ waiting for us outside!"

"I guess," he said, a pout beginning to pull at his lower lip.

Al just rolled his eyes. Hugo would thank him when the kids actually went to bed on time for once.

* * *

Legs kicked out in front of him, Al let Hugo's chatter about their cousins (something about Roxanne getting married to an American) wash over him as he kept an eye on the children. Lynette was swaying on a swing not too far away; Julie and Laurel were by the sandbox, picking flowers, and Jack–

"Daddy?"

Al turned his head. "Yes?"

"I gotta use the loo."

"Okay," Al said, standing up. Looking to his cousin, he asked, "Keep an eye on the girls for me?"

Hugo waved a hand. "Don't worry, Al."

He scoffed. As if that was possible. "C'mon, let's go," he said, reaching for Jack.

-v-v-v-

Walking back hand in hand with his son, Al first took notice of Hugo. His cousin was talking up a dark-skinned man while petting what looked to be the man's dog. When in hearing range, Al caught a brief bite of their conversation.

"–wow, you lift _too_? Isn't that something? I bet you look amazing in a swimsuit–"

Al wanted to hear no more. Pressing Jack against his side, he made a pass over the boy's curls and left his hand resting just over the little boy's exposed ear. Jack really didn't need to hear his uncle's god-awful attempts at flirting with the dog-walker. Turning his eyes over to the playground, he honed in on Lynette first. She was just as he left her, swaying on a swing with her nose pressed to her moblie (an appointment to the eye-doctor might be in order soon). In their time away, Julie had moved into the sandbox and was now helping a pair boys dig a hole. Looking over the rest of the playground, he found himself frowning.

'Where's Laurel?' he wondered. A sick feeling beginning deep in the pit of his stomach, Al swung Jack up onto his hip and held him close. Hugo had to know. He'd told him to watch the girls. Coming up beside his cousin, he asked, "Where's Laurel gone?"

Hugo paused mid-sentence. His eyes scanned the playground and the surrounding park. "Uh, the loo?"

Al frowned. "I would have seen her going in on my way out, don't you think?"

Hugo shrugged. "Depends on when she went in."

His previously steady heartbeat picked up a tempo close to that of a pixie's. Hugo was not taking this _seriously_. Clutching Jack all the tighter, Al took several staggering steps toward the playground. "Lynette!" he shouted. " _Lynette_!"

The girl, now on her feet, hardly trotted two steps toward them before Al was towering over her. He knew he must look half-mad, but he couldn't bring himself to care – no matter how much it might scare his daughter or son. "Lynette, I need you to go to the loo and check to see if Laurel is in there."

"Yes, Dad," Lynette agreed before running past him.

Stalking the perimeter of the playground, Al barked Laurel's name every few paces, hoping beyond hope that she'd pop out of a bush, or jump down from a tree branch to ask him what's wrong. But she didn't. 'God, why would she?' Al asked himself. His daughter would never worry him like this if something _hadn't_ happened!

"Dad! She's not there!" Lynette yelled as she raced over to him.

That familiar feeling of the earth giving way beneath him overtaking Al, he asked, "Are you sure?"

"I climbed over the stalls and everything, Dad!"

Taking a deep, painful breath, Al handed Jack to Lynette. "Take your brother and go stand with your Uncle Hugo, alright? Daddy – Daddy has to go get Julie."

Tears glistening in her big blue eyes, Lynette bravely nodded her head. 'Gryffindor, for sure,' Al thought absently as he turned his gaze on his watching daughter. Julie knew something was happening, but had yet to move from the sandbox.

He wondered if fear is what kept her frozen there. Putting on a smile that was far too wide to be true, he approached the little girl. Crouching down beside his daughter and the little boys she had been playing with, he asked, "Have you seen your sister Laurel?"

Trembling in his grip, the girl gave a mute shake of her head.

"When did you last see her?"

In little more than a whisper, she said, "Before we finished our tower."

Al glanced around his shoulder. A knee-high tower with a stick poking out of the top helped him to calculate an estimation of time. That tower couldn't have been finished more than ten minutes ago. His little girl hadn't been missing that long ('Thank God!'). They _would_ find her. She couldn't have gotten far. All he needed to do was–

What did he do? _What did he do_?

"Al?" Hugo asked from behind him. "Al? Are you okay?"

He looked up at his cousin.

Hugo winced. "Sorry, that was stupid of me. Look, we'll find her, okay? Lynette just called the Muggle Aurors."

Al blinked. "She did?"

Wearily, his cousin nodded. "She's a sharp one. Do they train kids for this kind of stuff now days?"

"Maybe," Al replied as he got to his feet, Julie right behind him. "Muggle school's really something."

Hugo gave a weak smile as Lynette staggered over, Jack hugging her arm in such a tight hold that she had no choice but to drag him along by it. "Daddy," she called. "They want to talk to you."

Nodding, Al took the Moblie from his daughter.

"Hello? Yes, this is her father. My name? Alvin Lawson…"

-v-v-v-

The next two hours passed like a movie on forward with the occasional play thrown in the mix to see the important scenes played out in excruciating detail. In no time at all, a couple of police officers were at the park. They interviewed everyone, Al, Hugo, the children, other people's children and their parents. Even the stupid dog-walker Hugo had been chatting up before Laurel's absence was interrogated.

Thankfully, half an hour ago, Al had been able to reach his and Rose's movie-night babysitter, Ellie. The young woman had been thoroughly shocked by the news and more than willing to take the rest of the kids home for him so he could continue to look for Laurel alongside the police. It did nothing to stem the ache in his heart, but Al did feel less frazzled now that he knew his children were safe in his home being watched by Ellie. Unlike Hugo, Ellie knew a thing or two about watching children, and the last thing he would have to fear is her losing one of the girls or Jack.

Though, Al was wondering if he shouldn't have gone home with them. It would have given him the chance to grab something from Laurel's laundry so the police dogs could be brought in. Things appeared they'd be going that route quite soon, too. The police had paused things for the moment and were re-grouping so they could have everyone on the same page when they expanded the search perimeters in five minutes time.

Beside him, Hugo said, "I think we should call the Aurors."

Al's gaze snapped to his cousin. There was something frightfully serious about the other's face. "What?"

"I know, I know, you don't want everyone knowing _your_ kids are _Uncle Harry's_ grandkids, but we'll just use your alias. I'll say you're a mate of mine who went to school abroad. No one will question a thing, a lot of my friends are foreign-born or foreign-educated," Hugo half-explained, half-cajoled.

It still sounded like a bad idea to Al, but… _Laurel was still missing._ Al pondered what Rose would have wanted. She would have wanted Laurel back – even if it meant the end of their peace in the process. It was difficult to accept, but the more people and resources they had invested in finding Laurel, the better their chances were going to be in finding her. Taking a deep breath, he whispered, "Okay."

Hugo's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "What? Really?"

"Yes!" Al snapped. "My daughter is missing!"

Realizing that he ought to get moving before Al could change his mind, Hugo nodded. "I'll, uh, go disaparate behind those bushes, alright?"

"Fine! Just go!"

With nothing more to say, Hugo meandered with false casualness over to the bushes behind the playground. A faint pop later, Al relaxed. It wouldn't be long now. Soon, he'd have two worlds looking for Laurel. With both of them on the hunt, Laurel _would_ come home.

She had to.

* * *

_It was very late. Far later than Alvin had any right being awake, but tomorrow was Rosemary's birthday. He wanted everything to be perfect for her – even if it meant re-doing the frosting of her cake a half a dozen times so it was just the right consistency. He made a pleased noise as he turned the cake on its pedestal, satisfied to not find a single uneven stroke in the melon-green frosting. Now all he had to do was create a few clusters of roses here and there along the edge of the cake and place the crown-wearing marzipan frog in the dead center of the cake._

_"Daddy, what are you doing?"_

_Alvin jolted, knocking over the cake-pedestal in the process. "Damn!" he exclaimed._

_"Uh-oh," Laurel whispered._

_He wanted so very much to be angry with his daughter, but he could see she was holding her water glass. She'd just popped down to fill it. How could he be angry at Laurel over an accident? Alvin sighed wearily and looked toward the remaining cake he had cooling by the oven. Thank God he'd thought to bake an extra after he threw out the first one. Turning his attention toward his daughter, he said, "It's fine. Daddy has another cake."_

_Laurel nodded, but still glanced between him and the mess curiously. "Is that for Mummy?" she asked._

_"Yes," Alvin answered. "I've been working on her cake for a few hours now. I want it to be perfect."_

_Setting her glass by the sink, Laurel clambered up onto the counter beside Alvin. "Mummy won't care if it's crumbs, though. She loves everything we give her."_

_Nodding, Alvin replied, "I know. It doesn't change that I want to give her the very best cake that I can, though. I love her."_

_Criss-crossing her legs in front of her, Laurel leaned forward and asked, "Because you love Mummy, her cake has to be perfect?"_

_"Everything I give and do for your mother has to be as close to perfect as I can manage because I love her," Alvin corrected._

_Laurel's expression turned to one of awe. "I hope I'll marry someone like you, Daddy. It'd be nice to have someone who loves me as much as you love Mum."_

_He grinned. "You will," he assured. "There's a person like that for everyone in the world."_

_Smiling back, Laurel leaned against Alvin's arm and asked, "How did you know Mummy was the one you wanted to be with forever?"_

_Brushing a hand through his daughter's hair, Alvin thought of Rosemary. The way she_ beamed _at him and him alone. How it struck his heartstrings and filled him with an all-encompassing love for her and her alone. "She made me feel like I was the only one in the world who mattered. She would look at me and… I could_ feel _it. She was the one for me," he said._

_"Wow."_

_Kissing his daughter's forehead, Alvin soaked in her marveled expression. He wasn't the least bit surprised that it was Laurel who understood what he was saying. She'd always had something about her that ran a little deeper, a little stronger, than her siblings when it came to understanding things as vast, beautiful, and heartbreaking as love._


	7. Mending

_Walking hand and hand with Rosemary, Alvin took in the world around him. Big, wet snowflakes were falling from the evening's dark sky and slowly, but surely creating a winter wonderland out of the crowded street. Adding to the movie-esque scene, storefront and restaurant windows were light up with Christmas hues and scenes. It was beautiful. Bumping shoulders with his wife as they squeezed past a small family, Alvin once again thought of how grateful he was that Drew, the new assistant manager, agreed to watch Frog Prince for the night. If he hadn't, Rosemary would have had to do the shopping for the kids' last-minute gifts alone._

_She would have been fine, even without Alvin, of course; Rosemary knew how to handle herself, but sometimes, he worried. Especially when snow was in the forecast. It had a tendency to make the streets slippery and the last thing Alvin wanted to happen to Rosemary was for her to slip and fall because she couldn't see a patch of ice or slush due to her hands being laden with shopping bags._

_Spying the new sweet shop that had opened a few weeks back, Alvin grinned at the sight of a pudgy-faced woman making_ _toffee in the window. Julie loved the pre-packaged stuff they picked up at Tesco's, he was sure a bag of the hand-made kind would make a perfect stocking stuffer for her. "Rose–" he started, only to have his breath taken away by Rosemary squeezing his hand bone-crushingly tight._

_Looking at her, he saw that her gaze was fixated on something several feet away. Alvin followed her gaze. Ahead of them, there was a trio of women who were passing around a moblie and laughing. The first two, a blonde and brunette, were strangely familiar, as for the third–_

_Alvin gasped._

_He recognized that woman! The last time he'd seen her, she'd been thirteen, sporting a pageboy cut, and mooning over the highly popular Trixie Pym romance novels, but there was no mistaking that coiffed Weasley-red hair or the vaguely crescent-shaped birthmark that covered half her chin. It was little Lucy Weasley (even if she was not so little anymore)._

_"What do we do?" he hissed._

_Rosemary's clutching of his hand only intensified. "On the count of three, we're going to turn around. She hasn't noticed us yet."_

_"Okay," Alvin whispered._

_Taking a shaky breath, Rosemary counted, "One, two, thr–"_

_Alvin spun them around just as Lucy's gaze moved away from the blonde. Tense and jittery, they briskly walked back in the direction they had come, all good cheer gone. When they were finally back in their car, he reached for Rosemary. She wrapped her shaking arms around his neck and began to rock them back and forth._

_"It's okay," she soothed. "We're fine. She didn't see us."_

_He tried his best to believe her. Yet, despite the truth Rosemary was whispering, Alvin couldn't shake the fact they had been half a second from having to run all over again. Half a second from ruin._

* * *

"And here's a picture of her," Hugo said, finishing up his talk with the Aurors on the behalf of Al (who was pretending to be a half-German squib with poor English speaking skills).

Making a face as Al's moblie was handed to her, the younger of the two Auror, a tiny Indian woman, who'd introduced herself as Riya Ramaswami, clucked her tongue. "We'll have to take this back to the Ministry to get the picture off of it. You wouldn't happen to have a real photo of her, would you?"

Hugo looked at Al. Al glared back at him. He didn't. Who in the world carried _hard copies_ of photos of on them anymore? It was almost 2040! Even centenarians used cheap little moblies to carry pictures of their grandchildren around with them instead of wallets these days. Hugo sighed and replied, "Ah, no. That picture there is the best we have…"

"That's fine," the senior Auror, a trim-figured blonde named Sheba Abbott (Uncle Neville's niece?), said as she took Al's moblie from her partner. "It'll only take a few minutes to get this circulated once it's copied."

"How long will that take?" Al asked, biting his tongue as soon as he realized he'd forgotten to fake an accent.

The Aurors exchanged a glance. "Twenty minutes?" Ramaswami offered, voice lilting with uncertainty.

Al was far from pleased. The Muggle police had sent word to the rest of their department by phone within five minutes of getting his story, his description of Laurel, and a picture of her from him. In ten, the information had been passed onto all nearby news stations, within fifteen, a search perimeter had been drawn up and available police officers sent out to scour the area for his daughter.

"That's not good enough!" he snapped.

The women tensed as Hugo placed a hand on his shoulder. "Albus–" he started, only for his teeth to click shut at realizing what he'd let slip.

As for Al, all he could do was gape at his cousin. Why now? Why did Hugo have to go and slip up and call him Albus instead of Al now?

"Albus?" Abbott whispered. Eyes big, she gasped. "Oh Merlin, you're Albus Potter, aren't you? I thought you looked familiar! Oh, Merlin!" Turning to her partner, she grabbed Ramaswami by the shoulders and said, "Riya, I need you to leave for the Ministry this instant and let them know that this missing little girl is _Harry Potter's_ granddaughter. That'll whip the department into action."

"Wait–" Al started, but it was too late.

The younger Aurora was already halfway across the park, in another ten seconds she would be in the woman's loo, then, in the privacy of a stall, she would disaparate from the park. With an ingratiating smile, Abbott said, "Don't worry Mister Potter, we'll find your little girl."

Feeling a wave of anger wash over him, Al turned on Hugo and snarled, "This is your fault! If you had just kept your fucking eyes on her like I asked you to, we wouldn't even be in this mess!"

"I – I'm sorry," Hugo stammered.

Al's hands itched with the urge to wrap themselves around Hugo's neck. He had never wanted someone this dead before! Not even the young man who had struck and killed Rose. Why had he ever thought it a good idea to listen to Hugo? To trust him? From the time when they were children, his cousin had been a liar, and Al knew this yet he had still been so stupid–

Sucking in a ragged breath, Al turned away from his cousin. He had to get away, if only for a moment.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Hugo shouted after Al.

He didn't look back or even deign to answer. Al was on the edge. He needed Rose. 'But she's gone!' he howled internally. A wave of grief overcoming him, Al wrapped his arms around himself. Unbidden, memories of his wife's kind face and warm hands came to Al. His pain intensifying he began to wish for things that he could never have. If only Rose was alive, if only he could take shelter in her arms…

'You can't have her here beside you, but you can still see her,' a voice deep inside Al whispered. 'Her grave isn't far from here.'

Al's pain began to ebb back into the recesses of his mind. That was right, he could see her. But did he want to? Just a short time ago, Al had vowed to never go back to the cemetery after watching Rose's ashes be lowered into the ground. He hadn't wanted his mind's image of Rose to be slowly replaced by a grave until even her smile was something he had to look in a photo album for to remember correctly. While he still feared to lose the ability to recall Rose's smile without aid, Al would rather see her in any form over not at all. She had been his rock, and even now he needed her to draw strength for what was to come.

Searching his surrounding wildly, Al spotted a wide tree. Casting a furtive stare at the people milling around, he ducked behind it. Closing his eyes, Al thought of the cemetery's iron gates and the white obelisk that crested a hill just behind them. Clenching his hands into a fist, Al disapparated.

* * *

Plowing up the hill that separated the cemetery gates from the tombstones it guarded, Al told himself, 'Nearly there, Rose is just a few more meters away.' Unfortunately, it was not as comforting a thought as he hoped it would be. Rosemary could be alive and right next to him, but it would not change much of anything. Laurel, their little drummer girl, was still missing. Hell, she could be dead. A tiny, pale corpse stuffed in some sicko's freezer or in the boot of a car, waiting to be dumped in a bog. Nightmare visions multiplying in his head, Al said, "God, this wouldn't be any easier if you were beside me, but at least you could keep me from going mad!"

Finally, atop the hill, Al paused. Rolling his shoulders, he tipped his head back to clear his mind's eye of vacant blue eyes (he wasn't sure if they were his daughter's, or if they were Rose's, but they were both horrifying visions regardless). Feeling a mite calmer now, Al re-focused on the outside world. The sky above was still blue. It filled him with a sliver of hope for a positive outcome. He would find his little girl – no matter what the cost. Ready to finish the path to Rose's grave, Al scoped it out from where he stood.

There. It was just past the oak tree and that tiny black and blue figure. Blue. Laurel had been wearing a blue jacket when they left the house. His heart beating wildly, Al took a step forward. "Laurel?" he called.

The figure shifted, a pale countenance turning to face him.

Al cursed, annoyed with himself for not putting in his contacts. He couldn't make out the figure's face. Hurrying down the hill, he yelled again, "Laurel!"

Now standing tall, the figure – clearly a little girl – shrieked, "Daddy!" before sprinting full speed at him.

Dropping to his knees, Al swung his arms wide open, creating a perfect net to capture his lacrosse-ball of a daughter. Her full weight catapulting into him, Al wrapped his arms around his little girl and held tight as they fell backward. In no time at all, he was sitting upright again and running his hands up and down Laurel. He marveled at her wholeness. He couldn't find so much as a scrape on her. Al wondered how that could be, but instead of asking, he kissed her dark curls and hugged her closer.

When they finally became two separate beings again, Al frowned. There were tear stains on Laurel's pale cheeks. Wiping the remnants away from beneath her beautiful blue eyes, he asked, "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Laurel mumbled before burying herself back in his chest.

Relieved, Al was completely ready to just hold his little girl and never let go when the nagging wonder of 'How did this happen?' came back again. Unable to ignore it any longer, Al asked, "How on earth did you end up here, Laurel?"

She sighed heavily into his collarbone. "Dunno," she said. "At the park, I was missing Mummy after Julie and me finished picking flowers. Usually, when me and Julie pick flowers, it's to give to you and Mummy. But Mummy's gone. It made me really sad and I told Julie, and she said we should just go play with the boys in the sandbox instead."

"We did a little bit, but then I started remembering how we left flowers here for Mummy after we finished burying her. So I went to start picking them again, but I didn't want to ask you to take them to Mummy, 'cause I thought it would make you even sadder than I was then. So I just started wishing I could do it myself and–" she gestured to the cemetery at large, indicating quite clearly what had followed her wish.

Al gave a shaky laugh. Accidental magic was the cause of all of this! Powerful stuff, too. His little girl could truly end up being one powerful witch someday. Cuddling Laurel even closer, he thought, 'Someday, you'll give me more cause for concern than Lynette.'

Face twisted with confusion, Laurel asked, "You're not mad?"

He shook his head. "Love, you did accidental magic. I can't be mad at you for something you have next to no control over."

"Oh," she replied before settling back down, ear pressed to his heart.

Kissing the top of her head, Al said, "Now, I know you didn't want to ask me to bring you to Mummy because you thought it would upset me, but next time, please do. Daddy can deal with a little pain if you need to see her."

Looking up at him, Al could see the uncertainty in her eyes as she said, "Okay, Dad."

"You scared me, you know that? I thought something had happened to you. That… That maybe you were dead somewhere."

"I'm sorry, Dad!" Laurel cried, sitting upright in his lap.

Using a hand to smooth down her hair, Al murmured, "It's fine, love. But that's why I want you to always ask if you want to go to see Mummy – or anyone else, for that matter. I don't like thinking you might be dead. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "I do. I'll make sure I _always_ ask for you to take me to see Mummy," Laurel promised.

Al smiled at his daughter. "Thank you."


	8. VIII

Al found he could spot them within moments of them walking through Frog Prince's revolving doors. There was something too eager about the way they moved, sometimes, it was almost predatory. In addition to their gaits, there was always something just a little off about their clothes, sometimes the colors clashed in unfashionable ways, or their style of pants might be a few years out of date. Then there was the way they put their teeth on full display with a beaming smile (no matter the shape they might be in) and even more unnerving than their smiles, was how their gazes searched the faces of Al's employees, hoping to recognize one of them as _him._ What worried Al the most about them, however, was when one of these other-worldly customers would outright ask if "Albus Potter" worked at Frog Prince.

Thankfully, his employees always answered their inquiries with a confused smile and, "Sorry, no."

Yesterday, however, Kate had approached Al and asked, " _Why is everyone looking for a guy named Albus Potter?_ "

He hadn't been able to look at her when he said, " _I don't know_."

She hadn't pressed after that, but he knew she didn't believe him in the slightest. He'd heard her and other employees whispering in the kitchen a few times since then. They thought the strange customers were even odder than Al bleaching his hair white-blond and getting a fade-cut. He suspected, though, if they hadn't connected the dots between the two, they would very soon.

As he locked Frog Prince's doors for the night, Al sighed. A staff meeting might be in order. He would have to tell them an altered version of his and Rose's story. Then he'd need to explain his monumental mistake of going home after Rose's death to inform their families of her death and about Hugo telling "townspeople" about him, Rose, and their children without his permission. At that point, it wouldn't be hard to ask them to please continue denying that an "Albus Potter" worked at Frog Prince, he thought. Nodding to himself, Al gave the front doors one last push to ensure they were locked. Absorbed in planning the beginning of his staff meeting, Al didn't even notice the presence waiting for him by his car until they said:

"'Lo."

Al jumped. Sliding his hand into the pocket of his pants, he scowled at who he found slouched against the bonnet of his car. _Hugo._ Damn it all, he'd already told his cousin to leave his house and not come near him or the kids ever again after bringing Laurel home from the cemetery. Did Al really have to go through on his threat of hexing Hugo six ways to Sunday? Maybe all his cousin needed was a reminder…

Throwing back his shoulders with fake bravo, Al narrowed his eyes and hissed, "Who the hell do you think you are? I told you to fuck off."

Hugo just stared back, not at all intimidated. "Nice haircut," he said after a moment.

Rolling his eyes, Al grumbled, "I had to do _something_ to try and disguise myself."

"I guess it's working, huh? Your picture hasn't shown up in any papers or tabloids yet."

Passing a hand over his hair, Al huffed out a half-sneering, half-pleased breath. "No surprise there. Everyone who comes through Frog Prince are looking for a double of Dad."

"You two did look a lot alike when we were younger."

Al turned his gaze away from his cousin. "I know."

"Yeah, I guess you do."

After a moment, Al turned a considering eye on his cousin and asked, "So, what's made you brave enough to return, Hugo? I wasn't joking about cursing you the next time I saw you." He pulled his wand out of his pocket. "I have my wand right here."

Hugo, face unusually solemn said, "I had an idea."

"Oh?" Al replied, quirking an unimpressed eyebrow. "About what?"

Hugo pushed away from Al's car, hands held out in front of him (if it was to placate or plead, Al didn't care; he wanted his cousin _gone_ ). Haltingly, he said, "I know. I know it's not you that you're worried about. If your story gets out, I mean. It's about the kids. Those fucking brilliant kids of yours. I was thinking about that when I couldn't sleep the other day. And that's when it came to me! Let me tell you and Rose's story."

A feeling of annoyance overcame Al. 'Of _course_ ,' he thought. 'Trust that Hugo would be the one looking for a way to capitalize on this mess.' Grinding his teeth together, he started, "Hugo–"

"No, Albus, just hear me out. I know you don't know this stuff, because, you're a _Muggle_ now, but back in our – my – world, I've won awards. People _like_ my writing. I make people love the villains. If I can make them love the villains, don't you think I can make them love you? Rose? Your kids? It won't be that hard. You're a modern-day _Romeo and Juliet_."

"Rose died in an accident and I'm still breathing. We're no _Romeo and Juliet_ ," Al argued, some of his irritation gone, and now feeling just a little receptive toward the idea. Maybe his cousin wasn't trying to make money off of him after all. Al knew some kind of speculative dribble had to be going around at this point, and he was sure it was only a matter of time before the real story found its way into the light of day. Having some kind of control over when the story got out, who was telling it, and how it was told did sound rather nice.

But Hugo as its teller? Was that _really_ what Al wanted? The bloke who always wanted to be the hero and never in the background?

Hugo waved a hand. "Close enough," he said. "So, will you let me?

Al bit his lip. Should he? There was no denying that Hugo knew how to tell a story, but did he trust him with his and Rose's? After _everything_? Fiddling with his wand, he said, "You know, I never did ask, and you never said, but… How do you feel about what I and Rose had, Hugo? James didn't care, he just wanted to be a part of the kids and my life. Lily understands now but admitted that she didn't always. Mum, Dad, your parents… I don't think they get it fully and I don't believe they'll ever really accept what we had. I know I should have asked, but I just figured if you had a problem you would have said so." Locking eyes with his cousin, Al asked, "I'm not wrong, am I?"

Hugo whispered, "Rose wrote me a letter once."

Al felt his heartbeat stutter. Rose wrote Hugo a _letter_? _His_ Rose? The same Rose who'd been the one to talk him out of writing home to their families a half a dozen times those first few months on the run? Surely he'd misheard his cousin! "A letter? _Rose_ wrote _you_ a letter?" he asked, a feeling of disbelief and devastation mingling inside him. He'd never been one to believe Rose was perfect, but he'd always thought she was the better of the two of them when it came to forgetting their pasts.

To realize he'd been wrong and that Rose had kept such a secret for so _long_ stung much more than Al could have prepared himself for.

Oblivious to where his turmoil stemmed from, Hugo explained briefly, "Yes. It probably was written just a little while after you two ran away. She was talking about you planning dishes, for your food cart, in it. She explained a lot of stuff too. About her, and you. She wrote a lot about love too." Looking away, Hugo admitted, "I thought about telling Mum and Dad when it came, but it was addressed to _me_ and I… After reading it, I got it, you know? I knew you two had done the right thing. After you and Rose left, home wasn't… It wasn't a place anyone would have wanted to be. Especially Rose, if they'd managed to bring her back." Expression grim, Hugo said, "She would have killed herself."

"Thank you for not telling your mum and dad," Al whispered. The way things could have gone playing in front of his mind's eye, he breathed, "That was– Thank you."

"I was thinking if you don't mind, that I might use some of Rose's letter in the story I write about you two. She had some really insightful things to say and I think it'd help the story."

Al nodded, no longer worried at all about Hugo doing his and Rose's romance justice. "Write it. Just… May I see it? Before you publish it?"

Eyes softening, Hugo replied, "Of course, Al."

Relaxing some, Al wondered what to say. How to show his gratitude. Finally, he asked, "Do Grandma and Grandpa still hold that get-together at the Burrow the second week of August?"

Hugo frowned, confused. "Yes?"

"I was thinking, maybe, you'd like to go to it with me and the kids? I'd even tell everyone you're the one who convinced me to go," Al offered with a small grin. Predictably, Hugo's face lit up. He did so love being the hero. If he was the one to bring Al and his children back into the Weasley-Potter-Lupin-And-Whoever-Else-They-Were-Now fold after Al's rather fierce declaration of leaving for good, Hugo would surely be revered by friends and family alike for his "efforts".

"There's no changing your mind, now, if I say yes," Hugo warned, voice teasing, but eyes hungry.

Al nodded. "I have no plans to."

Putting out his hand, Hugo said, "Then you have a deal, cousin."

"Excellent," Al replied as he took his cousin's hand and shook it to seal their arrangement.

* * *

_Holed away in the quiet of the living room, Alvin did his best to ignore the occasional thump and screech from upstairs. Tonight was not his night to worry about bedtime. Jogging his leg up and down, Alvin began to look for a distraction. The telly's clicker was no where in sight. Rolling his eyes at the typicalness of this, he began to move around the toys and papers covering the coffee table. A moment later, he was unburying Rosemary's Ipad. Shrugging, he picked it up and unlocked it. Opening his and Rosemary's preferred news app, he began to idly scroll through the day's events. More debate about England re-joining the EU, unusually heavy snow in North America, a German independent film receiving acclaim for realistically capturing how life was for Syrian immigrants in Germany during the late teens…_

_Suddenly, Alvin was pulled out of finding an interesting news story by a loud huff from behind. Craning his neck, Alvin saw his wife hovering above him. Her expression was a mixture of irritation and nerves. "What's wrong? Was Jack resisting bedtime again?" he asked._

_Climbing over the back of the couch, Rosemary replied as she fell into the spot beside Alvin, "No. Well, yes. But that's not the problem. He did_ magic _."_

 _He was rendered speechless. His son had done_ magic _. He was a wizard, just like Alvin. Swallowing thickly, he whispered,_ " _Did he now? What did he do?"_

_Rosemary's lips twitched. "Turned his toothpaste into icing."_

_Alvin couldn't help but chuckle. "How'd you figure that out?"_

_"After he got a taste, he picked up the tube and began to squeeze it straight into his mouth," she explained, a full on smile stretched across her face._

_Putting down the Ipad, Alvin asked, "How'd you fix that one?"_

_She sighed and shook her head. "I didn't. Just took it away and gave him a dollop of Julie and Lynette's."_

_Alvin crinkled his nose. "He hates watermelon flavor, though."_

_Rosemary frowned and muttered, "I know."_

_They were quiet for a moment. Both lost in thoughts only they were privy to. Finally, after careful consideration, Alvin said, "Three little witches and a wizard. What luck, huh?"_

_"What luck," Rosemary echoed._

_He threaded their fingers together. In response, Rosemary settled her head comfortably upon his shoulder; the tension in her frame loosening ever so slightly. Letting his head rest atop hers, Al whispered, "We don't have to send them to Hogwarts. We could look into places like Beauxbatons, or if you don't mind being old-fashioned, we could homeschool."_

_Shifting beneath him, she pressed a kiss to his chin. "Let's… Let's not worry about that now."_

_Alvin nodded, a little relieved himself that their evening wasn't going to turn into a nerve-wracking night of debating pros and cons of education options. "We will have to soon, though," he told Rosemary._

_"Soon," she agreed before capturing his mouth in a kiss._

* * *

Biting into a deviled egg, Al looked at the groups of laughing, talking, arguing relatives and family-friends and made the decision to instead take a seat away from the noise and search for his children among them. Finding a quiet seat beneath a dying tree in the Burrow's backyard, Al settled against the old wood with a sigh. The first hour had been quite nice, he had to admit. Though, that likely had more to do with the fact it was Hugo re-introducing him to their cousins and friends than any true excitement on his part. Hugo had made sure to keep their interactions brief and light as he pushed him around the crowds. As for the second hour, it'd been okay for a little bit.

It had been sort of interesting to hear Uncle Percy and his son-in-law talk about the going ons of the Ministry. Then, when Uncle Percy's granddaughter, Margo, joined their company, things became less interesting as they began to talk about her becoming one of Gryffindor's newest prefects. About how excited she was, because her twin brother was to be a prefect for Ravenclaw and they had _plans_ for Hogwarts and– Well after that Al started to tune the girl out. He was happy for his cousin, of course, but the talk of her becoming prefect made him uneasy. It reminded Al of his own dilemma with his daughter. She was going to be eleven in a week and he would have to decide then what to do about her education. He really didn't like the idea of sending her to Hogwarts, even with her cousins as prefects. That hadn't helped him any, after all. No, if anything, them being prefects had caused others to heap even _more_ expectations upon him.

After about five minutes of listening to his cousin, he gently broke into excuse himself from them to use the loo. Uncle Percy hugged him and told him how good it was to see him and Margo and her father shook his hand and said it was very nice to meet him before returning to their conversation.

Walking off, instead of going to the loo, Al did a loop around the yard and found him beside the food table. Shrugging, he poured himself a glass of punch to drink. When he finished sipping it, Al picked up a couple of deviled eggs and looked for a quiet spot away from the throngs of family and family friends. He had needed a moment of quiet. And that was how Al ended up beneath dying branches, alone. 'You're always going to be alone now,' a vile little part of him hissed. Shaking his head, Al pushed past the self-pitying thoughts and concentrated on finding his children among the family. It didn't take him long at all to spy Jack. He was chasing James's son around, absorbed in a game of tag.

It surprised Al still, just how quickly Jack and Arthur had bonded. The two had gone nearly four years without ever knowing of each other's existence, yet in one afternoon, not all that long ago, they had laid down the foundation for what could very well be a lifelong friendship. Al really should look into setting up a regular sort of playdate day for the two. It'd be good for them, seeing as Jack was the baby and only boy in their family, and Arthur, an only child.

Satisfied that his son was doing just fine, he began to look for his girls. It took a couple of minutes, but after some of his cousins' older offspring moved away from the food table he spied Julie and Laurel. They were watching Teddy's youngest, a fair-haired thirteen-year-old named Owain, as he spoke animatedly about something. Al bet it was Hogwarts. The girls had become increasingly interested in the school since Hugo started telling them stories about his own time there.

He frowned. Why wasn't Lynette with her sisters? She liked the stories just as much as them (and, maybe, even more). Getting to his feet, Al approached his children. When Jack came zooming by, he grabbed him. Turning him around in his grip, Al smiled at the disgruntled expression his son wore. "I'll let you go soon enough," Al said. "Have you seen Lynette lately?"

Jack cocked his head to the side, considering. "Think I saw her go inside?" he offered, voice lilting with uncertainty.

Al sighed. That was a start, he supposed. Releasing Jack, he said, "Thanks."

His son grinned before racing off toward Arthur, who was waiting for him beside his namesake, Grandpa Arthur. 'Lynette is around, you just have to find her,' he told himself as he wiped his sweaty palms on his pant legs. This wasn't like the park. They were surrounded by family who was helping to keep track of where the kids were. Heading for the Burrow, Al smiled at his girls when they saw him. There was no reason to worry them just yet.

Searching the kitchen, dining room, and living room, Al felt a familiar wave of terror wash over him. 'Where are you, Lynette?' he asked himself. Just as he was about to break his way into Grandma Molly's knitting room to check there, he heard voices drift over from the staircase.

"I want to, but…"

'Lynette!'

"But what? If you want to go, you go. That simple."

'Lily?' Al thought with no small amount of confusion. What was his sister doing with his daughter? Creeping toward the stairs, Al strained his ears.

"It's not that easy. I'm not – we're not a normal magical family. Dad and Mum ran away from here because they were scared you guys would separate them, remember? We aren't – weren't supposed to ever be a part of magical England. We were going to be separate. The secret, magic Lawsons."

"Or sent abroad for school."

"Or sent abroad," Lynette agreed.

Al heard Lily shift, the Burrow's old stairs groaning beneath her. "Things are different now. Those plans your dad and mum had have all gone out the window. If you want to go to Hogwarts, just tell your dad. He'll let you."

"Are you sure?" Lynette asked. "Dad… Dad doesn't like us coming with him to Frog Prince anymore. He says it's to protect us from witches and wizards who might say mean things to us. If he's scared of what people might say to us there, don't you think he'd be even more scared of the things kids and professors might say to me at Hogwarts? A place where I'd be stuck until at least Christmas?"

"I'll be there," Lily replied slowly. "So will my godfather, Neville Longbottom, his wife, Hannah, and your cousins, Nymphadora, Jean, Owain, Percy, and Margo. You're going to have a whole army there with you. We won't let _anyone_ say anything mean to you about our family."

There was a moment of what Al assumed was contemplative silence.

"What if Dad just says no? What if he won't listen when I say I want to go?"

"Tell me. I'll talk to him."

There was a rustling of cloth.

"Thanks, Aunt Lily."

"It's no trouble, darling."

Turning away from the staircase, Al headed toward the back door. He had a lot to think about. His daughter wanted to go to _Hogwarts_.


	9. IX

* * *

_…I had been talking to him for several minutes, nattering on about Gryffindor's Quidditch team, I think. Albus in extension, seeing as he was keeper for our team, and quite excellent at it to boot. Suddenly, Scorpius turned his head. A peculiar expression twisting his mouth. "You two are really close, aren't you? For cousins, I mean," he said._

_The words on my tongue died. For a moment, I was speechless. The question felt so out of place and, I admit, I felt a little hurt. It seemed to me that he had not been paying any attention to what I had said at all! But I chose to let it go. We had not been dating long, and I didn't want him to think I was bitch who got upset when he did not listen to everything I said. Re-playing his question in my mind, I considered my answer. Even then, I was not sure what I was about to say was correct. "I suppose?" I answered, only to add, "but I'm friends with just about all my cousins."_

_"You spend a lot of time with Albus, especially, I've noticed," he replied, and then, brows furrowing, muttered, "And_ talking _about him."_

 _I puffed out my cheeks, now annoyed. "Well, our parents are best friends," I pointed out. Then, lifting my hand, I began to count my fingers as I listed off other things about us. "We're also the same age, both in Gryffindor, and have a lot in common_ _…" Suddenly, I began to think of other things we shared, more_ physical _things. We always hugged in greeting, Albus often braided my hair for me, as I had no patience for it, I would sometimes sit in his lap, when seats were sparse at places like the Leaky Cauldron. No longer certain if we were normal or strange, I asked,_ _"It's not that weird, is it?"_

_Scorpius's eyes were still troubled as he replied, "No, I suppose not."_

_I didn't understand then. Albus was family – almost another brother – not a threat to the blossoming romance between Scorpius and I. Someday, though, I would. Someday far sooner than I ever could have imagined. It may have been only the most traditional of Purebloods who taught their children to treat and see their cousins as potential matches in today's times, but that didn't mean others (me) also couldn't find love within their family's branches…_

-v-v-v-

Al set down the draft. He couldn't read anymore. It sounded so much like Rose that it _hurt_. He was surprised, but pleased, that Hugo had managed such a feat. Meeting the apprehensive gaze of his cousin, Al said, "It's like you got your hands on Rose's secret diary."

A faint smile curved Hugo's lips. "Oh, you. We both know Rose wasn't that kind of girl."

"Yeah," Al replied, a grin itching at his lips. Rose never had been the type. In fact, she'd mocked those who did once or twice when they were young, saying that they were self-absorbed pricks to think their day-to-day lives so interesting. Buoyed by the light thought, he felt no trepidation when he asked, "So, when is this set for publication?"

Hugo's eyes went wide. "You mean you like it?"

He rolled his eyes, certain that his cousin was fishing for compliments now. Why _else_ would he have asked? In the end, he decided to play along, however. "Yes," he answered. "So, its publication date?"

Gathering up the draft, Hugo said, "This Saturday, actually. The magazine was more than happy to pull a few strings to get it in, seeing as it's the _real_ story about you two."

Al couldn't help his grim chuckle. "I bet."

Nervously, Hugo began to crinkle the draft between his fingers. "We can wait on publishing it, if you want. I haven't sent the story in yet."

"No," he said, "no, it's fine." Sighing, he rubbed the back of his head and explained, "I _know_ it's best we put it out now, before some less scrupulous journalist gets it in their mind to do the proper digging about Rose and me and blasts an unflattering version of the truth out there. I'm just… apprehensive and well, I'll get over that. It sort of reminds me of before a big Quidditch game, you know? Sorry, you probably don't. You never were much good at sports, but surely you can sympathize?"

"I can," Hugo agreed slowly. "But I also don't want you to regret it, once it's out. Why don't you take a few minutes to calm down and then _really_ think about it?" he suggested.

Al cast a look toward the living room, where his children were preoccupied with a game of Go Fish. Jack was starting to shout, now, though. The game was going to dissolve to bits in another minute or two. Al was touched Hugo had offered, but he just couldn't take a moment with mischief in the air. "I don't have time for that," he said to his cousin, staring in the direction of the living room.

Following his gaze, Hugo frowned. "Would you like me to stick around a while? Play with the kids so you can have some time to yourself?" he offered.

Al knew he shouldn't accept. Hugo had lost Laurel the last time he trusted him with his children, but a bit of time to himself was just what he need. Putting on his meanest look, Al said, "Fine. Just know, though, if you lose another of my children I'll turn you into a fish and dump you in the ocean to be eaten by bigger ones."

Hugo laughed. "Oh, I'll take good care of them. I learned my lesson."

Al snorted. Then, with some hesitancy, he reached across the table and squeezed his cousin's wrist. "Thanks, Hugo. You're a good bloke."

His cousin's eyes shined. "You don't have to thank me, you're my brother. It's what they do for each other."

* * *

The breakfast table was laden with confetti, and in the middle of it all, a bright orange birthday cake waited to be cut into. It wouldn't be long now, he noted, as the sound of the fridge opening caught his attention. Julie was awake and rooting around the fridge for a juice box. Sneaking a look at his now eleven-year-old daughter, he grinned at her pout.

"She'll be in here in a minute."

Lynette's pout only deepened. "But _rainbow_ cake, Dad!"

He laughed, ready to tease her a little about her love for the special treat when the sound of something liquid hitting the floor caught his attention. Craning his neck, he tried to catch a glimpse of Julie in the kitchen. Unfortunately, at his angle, she was invisible. Worriedly, he called, "Is everything alright?"

"Daddy! There's an owl with a letter for Lynette!" Julie shouted back.

Al glanced at Lynette. He watched his daughter's eyes double in size, her grip on her fork tightening. She knew exactly what this letter was about – the same as him. Al had been dreading the letter's coming, knowing that it was something his daughter wanted, yet fearing all the things it would come to entail. As he'd decided, upon learning she wanted to go, however, Al was not going to tell Lynette no when she asked if she could go to Hogwarts. After all, what kind father would he be if he held his daughter back because of his own fears and issues? An awful one undeserving of his children's love. To appease his own fears, though, Al would make sure Lynette knew was all she had to do was ask to go home, if Hogwarts became a nightmare instead of a dream.

But first, his daughter needed to retrieve her Hogwarts letter.

Calmly, Al said to Lynette, "Go on, go get your letter."

Nearly causing her chair to topple in her haste to get up, Lynette was in the kitchen before he could so much as turn his head. A moment later, with Julie beside her, Lynette was standing in the doorway that joined the kitchen and dining room. In her shaking hands was a unopened letter with the Hogwarts seal facing toward him and the rest of the children.

"Are you going to open it?" Al asked.

Lynette ripped the envelope wide open in response. Unfolding its contents, she read it aloud for them. Then, with a hopeful smile, she said, "Since they _invited_ me, may I go to Hogwarts, Dad?"

"If Lynette gets to, I want to too!" Jack shouted from his spot at the other end of the dining table.

Al smiled at his son, amused (yet already mourning for the day his little boy would be so old). "When you're eleven like Lynette, you'll get to go to Hogwarts as well."

Lynette gasped. "Does that mean…?"

"Yes," Al said. "You may go to Hogwarts."

"Thank you, Dad!" Lynette cried, coming to hug him.

Patting his daughter's back, he told her, "I just want you to know, my love, my first, that all you have to do is tell your aunt you are unhappy and she will bring you back to us."

Pulling back, Lynette nodded. "I'll remember," she promised. "Love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, Lynette," he replied. Then, turning a mischievous eye on the daughter sitting beside him, he reached over and tickled Laurel's side. Giggling, the girl squirmed away from his hand.

"Daddy! Stop!" she yipped.

Laughing, Al then took a moment to look at all of his children before saying, "I love you _all_."

Their happy smiles told him more than anything they ever could have said that his sentiments were returned.


	10. X

They had to be quite the sight, Al thought. He had held high hopes for his family's first adventure into the public eye, but that had all gone out the window once Jack threw himself upon the ground when he realized Hogwarts wasn't a day-school. His son now screaming and thrashing in his arms, Al wished, with no small amount of grief, for Rose. She would have been able to sooth Jack into his usual sweet self the moment he began to fuss. As he did his best to comfort Jack, Lynette and her little sisters exchanged glances. Lynette moved toward Al and Jack. "Are you sure you want me to go now? I could–"

Al grunted as a little foot got him in the kidneys. Jerking his head in the direction of the Hogwarts Express, he said, "Go. I'd rather not have you miss the train because of your brother."

Lynette tightened her grip on her trunk, glancing toward the train. Then, sighing, she let go of the trunk altogether and came to press a kiss to her sobbing brother's cheek. "I'll write you the first chance I get, Jack! Love you!" she shouted over his crying. Then, returning to her trunk, she took hold once more and yelled, "Love you, Dad, Laurel, Julie!"

"Girls, hug your sister goodbye," Al commanded as he readjusted his grip on the no longer kicking Jack.

The girls were all too happy to throw themselves at their sister. Sniffling, Laurel said, "We'll miss you!

Tears in her eyes, Julie added to her sister's proclamation with a heartfelt, "Everyday, Lynette!"

"Oh, you two!" Lynette exclaimed, squeezing the little girls tight in a one-armed hug. "I'll miss you the same."

After a few more words with her sisters, Lynette waved cheerily to Al and began her journey toward the train.

Once she disappeared among the throngs, Al put Jack down on the ground. His son, having worn himself out, was now rubbing at his red eyes and only hiccuping once in a while. Crouching down beside his son, Al said, "Lynette will be home before you know it."

Jack's face crumpled again. "No, she won't!" he wailed.

"I was always glad you and your sister were old enough to comprehend calendars when we sent James to Hogwarts."

Startled, Al couldn't stand fast enough. Once on his feet, he met the steady gaze of his father with a frown. "What are you doing here?" he asked, voice edging on hostile.

"Your cousin suggested I come offer moral support. It's not easy, sending off your first."

Al frowned. "Which cousin? And how they manage that?" he demanded. He didn't know which of them would have been able to convince Dad to come, especially after his sudden and fierce departure from Godric's Hollow. Add in his and Rose's relationship becoming public knowledge and persuading Dad to be anywhere near him felt like a nigh impossible task.

"Hugo, of course. He said you had something to ask me," Dad replied, a furrow coming between his brows. "Didn't he tell you?"

He pressed his lips thin. He was going to murder Hugo later. "No."

His dad sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, "I assumed he would have. Considering our… _differences_ I thought he'd make sure you were comfortable with me coming here to meet you."

Pushing Jack toward his sisters to be looked after, Al scoffed. Did his dad _really_ know any of his children, nieces, or nephews at all? "Do you know Hugo _in the slightest_? That's not how he works. Add in the high he's running off of from all the attention he's been getting lately and I'm sure he thinks he's doing us a favor."

"Oh."

Al scanned the crowds. Some people were watching him and Dad now, a few even whispering to one another. Not a good sign. "Is Mum around?" he asked, looking behind his father in the process.

"She's at home, making your favorite for lunch. She was sort of expecting that you'd come back with me," he admitted, running a hand through his hair nervously.

Glancing once more to the people around him, Al nodded. It was probably best he followed Dad out of King's Cross before someone got it in their heads to try and talk to him, Al, or one of the kids. "I'd hate to disappoint," he said.

Surprise colored his dad's face. "Really?"

He couldn't help but roll his eyes. His dad might be here because of a lie, but Al had been trying to work up the courage to go see his parents again. He wanted to talk to him, to Mum too, about the story that Hugo published. See if they perhaps understood a little better now. "Yes, let's go." Motioning for his children to come close, he lifted Jack to his shoulders and took his daughter's hands.

-v-v-v-

Upon stepping into the oven-warmed kitchen, his mum stood up from the kitchen table and smiled. "Albus!" she cried.

He frowned. "It's Al, Mum."

"Oh, yes," she mumbled as she came to hug him. "Sorry, dear."

Accepting the embrace, Al forced himself to relax a little. This was his _mother_ , after all, and despite everything he loved her. When he pulled back, Al gestured to his children. "Do you need help with getting anything ready for lunch? The kids are great helpers and Dad and I have some things to talk about."

Mum glanced to his rather glum-faced brood and grinned. "In fact, I _do_!" she exclaimed. "I made us cupcakes for dessert, but have yet to ice them. I was thinking, maybe your little girls and Jack would like to help me?"

The children perked up immediately. They'd always loved baking. "I wanna help!" Jack shouted. "D'you got smarties? B'fore Mummy died we used to make smiley cupcakes with 'em."

Her eyes dimmed every so slightly, but she managed to keep her smiled fixed upon her lips. "Unfortunately, no. But I do have some _Wizard_ candy you can decorate the cupcakes with," Mum said, taking Jack's hand and guiding him toward the kitchen table. "I think you will have fun tasting them and using them to decorate the cupcakes." She turned her attention to the girls, who still hovered close to Al. "Don't you agree, girls?"

Laurel looked to him. Al nodded. Raising her chin confidently, she said, "Yes, I think you're right."

Grinning broadly at Laurel and Julie, Mum said, "Excellent!" She then gestured for the girls to take a seat on the bench beside Jack, who was cooing at a bag of Fizzing Whizzbees, obviously pleased by what he was seeing.

"Have fun," Al told his children, before turning toward his father. "Where do you want to talk?" he asked.

His father looked to the staircase. "How about my study?"

Nodding, Al said nothing and let his father guide him upstairs. Following him into the study, he blinked at how different it was. "You remodeled," he remarked.

Dad smiled. "Last year. Your sister did it for me. She thought it was too stuffy."

Al tried to smile back at his father, since he sounded so pleased by the change, but really he was quite sad. He'd always liked his dad's study. It may have been a bit crowded with stuff and undoubtedly victorian in style, but always warm thanks to the cherry-wood and gold curtains hung in front of the window. When he was little, Al used to spend hours reading in the old armchair kept by the door while his dad did paperwork. They'd never talked much during those hours holed away in his study, but Al had always felt closer to his dad for it. Now that it was so different, it almost felt like his dad had wiped away those good memories… Wiped _him_ away.

"So, since Hugo mislead me earlier, do you even have anything to want to ask me?" Dad questioned as he took a seat behind his desk.

Taking a seat in the chair in front of the desk, Al replied, "He didn't mislead you, he lied, Dad. I never said anything about wanting you there."

Dad frowned. "Does it really matter?"

Al scowled. "Yes."

Crossing his arms, Dad grumbled, "Why are you trying to pick a fight, Al? I thought we were going to talk."

"We are!" Al snapped.

Dad just stared, unimpressed by him in every way.

It infuriated him. He _hated_ that look. Standing up, he said, "This was a stupid idea. Look, I'm going to go. I'll pick the kids up around dinner–"

"Sit down, Al!" Dad shouted, now on his feet as well. Tone bordering on desperate, his dad pleaded, "I don't know why you're so upset all of a sudden. Won't you just talk to me?"

Al rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, considering his choices. After a few moments, he slowly lowered himself back down into the chair. He still wanted to know if his dad didn't approve of him and Rose. "Have you read the story Hugo put in that magazine about Rose and me?" he asked.

"Yes," Dad replied. "I still don't approve, but I… I understand a little better now."

He quirked an eyebrow, annoyed, but curious to see what his father meant by he understood better. "Oh? You do?"

His dad nodded his head in confirmation. "Your cousin is a brilliant writer, you know. He made it seem very natural, the progression of your relationship with Rose. I think I understand now, how you two could do such a thing. I also realize that the way we, your mother and I, and your aunt and uncle would have handled the aftermath of its discovery when you were young would have done nothing to help either of you." Eyes sad, he admitted, "I'm rather glad you two managed to get away, now."

Al absorbed this admission and felt a little lighter for it. Even so, he had to ask. "Why don't you approve even now? It's like I told you, we loved each other."

Dad sighed. "Al, you and Rose fell in love because you thought the world was full of people who could never _really_ love you. If you'd talked to me or your mother, we would have helped you somehow. If you had, you would have never had to turn to your cousin for love."

"We were a couple of jaded teens. We didn't think _anyone_ could help us. It's not like you or mum or anyone ever made it feel like we could talk to you, either. I tried writing you a time or two, in first year, about how I didn't like Hogwarts. Everyone kept expecting me to be just like you. But I wasn't. You just told me to persevere and promised that there would be people who would see _me_ soon." Old anger gripping him, Al rose to his feet and shouted, "No one ever did! I was alway Albus Potter, _Harry Potter's_ son. No one saw _me_. Except–" Blinking back tears, he felt all fury drain away as he whispered, "Except Rose."

"Albus…"

Wiping roughly at his eyes, Al asked, "Are you still going to try and tell me you could have made it better? Are you still going to say it was wrong to fall in love with the only person who really knew me? Because you'd be _wrong._ "

"Oh, son, how did things ever go so wrong?"

He shrugged. He wanted to say the moment he was born, but that felt too cruel. "I can't say," he finally said. "One day, every little thing added up and then, there was no fixing it."

"Not at all? Can't we at least try? I want to be a part of your life, a part of your children's life. I know your mother does too. So do your Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron and the rest of the family, even."

"Dad…"

His dad reached across the desk and took ahold of Al's hand. "Please, Albus. One last chance."

Staring into his father's desperate eyes, Al opened his mouth.

* * *

Tucking Julie under her covers, he kissed her forehead. "See you in the morning, love," he whispered.

She smiled at him before turning on her side. Standing up, Al stretched his arms above his head before padding out of his daughter's room. Closing her bedroom door behind him, Al nearly jumped at the person standing across the hall. Scowling, he asked, "Don't you know how to knock?"

Hugo grinned. "What's fun about knocking?"

"Is this going to be a normal thing with you? Do I have to get my house warded against you popping in?"

His cousin pouted. "Come on, Al, it's just a bit of fun."

"Next time you do that, I could have my wand on me and hex you without even thinking. Do you really want that?"

The other man rolled his eyes. "You'll try, I'm sure. But you'll have no luck hitting me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Al demanded.

Grinning, Hugo said, "You'll only just begun to use your wand again and I bet your aim is just terrible."

"It is not!"

His cousin laughed. "Whatever you say."

Al kneaded at his temples. Hugo was such a pain. "What's brought you by?"

"You saw Uncle Harry today, right?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Maybe," he replied.

Frowning, Hugo grumbled, "Don't play games with me now, Al. I need to know."

"Why?"

"Because!"

Al snorted. "That's a stupid reason."

"Please, Al, did you? It wasn't easy persuading him."

He eyed his cousin for a few second, finally, he said, "I did."

Elation followed by trepidation crossed Hugo's face. "How did it go? It didn't turn into a mess like the first time, did it?"

"I said I'd give him one last chance, to mend things between us," Al replied.

Hugo grinned brilliantly. "That's great!" he exclaimed.

"Why is that?" Al asked, wondering why this was such wonderful news for Hugo.

Confusion twisted his cousin's features. "Well, because of the kids. Grandma and Grandpa aren't getting any younger, neither are our parents for that matter, and all of the cousins… They deserve to know the kids, and you deserve to have everyone around you. I know you're a _great_ dad, Al, but even great ones can burn out. And, no offense, but you have a _lot_ of kids. I don't know what you and Rose were thinking. Anyway, it'll be good, for you and them to have everyone around for support. It takes a village, as they say."

Al was once again surprised by his cousin's thoughtfulness. Hugo really had grown up, hadn't he? Perhaps he still liked to be the center of attention, but he had learned to think about others since he was a boy. "I should thank you, shouldn't I?"

"It wouldn't be a bad idea, no," Hugo replied, grinning.

He found himself smiling back. "Thanks, Hugo."

Waving a hand, Hugo said with false-humility, "Don't worry about it."

Al laughed, then, he asked, "I have an open bottle of wine downstairs. Do you want to come help me finish it off?"

"You know it!"

* * *

_Pausing in taking the chairs down from the tables, Alvin straightened out at the sight of his wife coming out of the kitchen with her purse in hand. "What are you doing?" he asked. "We open in ten."_

_Pulling her arm into the sleeve of her jacket, Rosemary said, "I'm just running down the street to get some flour. We're out. Tuesday's shipment must have forgotten it."_

_"Are you sure you wouldn't rather me go? You'll need to buy at least a half-dozen."_

_Smiling, Rosemary shook her head. "I can handle it," she said._

_"If you're sure."_

_"Oh, I am," she promised. Then, blowing a kiss his way, Rosemary called, "Ta, my love! I'll be back soon!"_

_"See you!" Alvin returned. Then, unknowing of what the fates had in store for him and his wife, he returned to his task._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and please leave a comment and/or kudos to let me know what you think!


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